Farewell Frost, or Welcome the Spring
Fled are the frosts, and now the fields appearReclothed in fresh and verdant diaper;Thaw'd are the snows; and now the lusty SpringGives to each mead a neat enamelling;The palms put forth their gems, and every treeNow swaggers in her leafy gallantry.The while the Daulian minstrel sweetly singsWith warbling notes her Terean sufferings.--What gentle winds perspire! as if hereNever had been the northern plundererTo strip the trees and fields, to their distress,Leaving them to a pitied nakedness.And look how when a frantic storm doth tearA stubborn oak or holm, long growing there,--But lull'd to calmness, then succeeds a breezeThat scarcely stirs the nodding leaves of trees;So when this war, which tempest-like doth spoilOur salt, our corn, our honey, wine, and oil,Falls to a temper, and doth mildly castHis inconsiderate frenzy off, at last,The gentle dove may, when these turmoils cease,Bring in her bill, once more, the branch of Peace.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.