Nature and Elements

I walk unseen On the dry smooth-shaven green, To behold the wandering moon, Riding near her highest noon, Like one that had been led astray Through the heav’n’s wide pathless way, And oft, as if her head she bow’d, Stooping through a fleecy cloud.

Oft, on a plat of rising ground, I hear the far-off curfew sound Over some wide-watered shore, Swinging low with sullen roar.

Sweet bird, that shunn’st the noise of folly, Most musical, most melancholy!

And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens takes his pleasure.

And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes.

And the jocund rebecks sound To many a youth, and many a maid, Dancing in the checkered shade. And young and old come forth to play On a sunshine holiday.

And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.

Meadows trim, with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide; Towers and battlements it sees Bosom’d high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes.

While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before, Oft list’ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb’ring morn.

While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin, And to the stack, or the barn door, Stoutly struts his dames before, Oft list’ning how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumb’ring morn.

The firstling of the infant year.

Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters and keeps warm her note.

Ask me no more where Jove bestows, When June is past, the fading rose; For in your beauty’s orient deep These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.

Most things move th’ under-jaw, the crocodile not. 4 Most things sleep lying, th’ elephant leans or stands. 5

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie.

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky.

I got me flowers to strew Thy way, I got me boughs off many a tree: But Thou wast up by break of day, And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.

But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men, For with his nails he’ll dig them up again.

Call for the robin redbreast and the wren, Since o’er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men.

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is laid to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted manner keep: Hesperus entreats thy light, Goddess, excellently bright.

Oh, I could still (Like melting snow upon some craggy hill) Drop, drop, drop, drop, Since nature’s pride is, now, a wither’d daffodil.

What if this present were the world’s last night?

Nature’s great masterpiece, an Elephant, The only harmless great thing; the giant Of beasts.

The Alphabet Of flowers.