Spring.
Late in the month a rude East Wind came down,1
A roaring wind, which for a time had sway ;2
But other powers possess’d the night and day,3
And soon he found he could not hold his own.4
The merry ruddock whistled at his heart,5
And strenuous blackbirds piere’d his flanks with song ;6
Pert sparrows wrangled o’er his every part,7
And through him shot the larks on pinions strong ;8
Anon, a sunbeam brake across the plain,9
And the wild bee went forth on booming wing ;10
Whereat he feeble wax’d, but rose again11
With aimless rage, and idle blustering :12
The south wind touch’d him with a drift of rain,13
And down he sank—a captive to the Spring !14