The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves
Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees,
Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed
In full luxuriance to the sighing gales,
Where the deer rustle through the twining brake,
And the birds sing concealed. At once arrayed
In all the colors of the flushing year,
By Nature’s swift and secret-working hand,
The garden glows and fills the liberal air
With lavish fragrance; while the promised fruit
Lies yet a little embryo unperceived
Within its crimson folds. Now from the town
Buried in smoke, and sleep, and noisome damps;
Oft let me wander o’er the dewy fields,
Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling
drops
From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze
Or sweet-brier hedges I pursue my walk;
Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend
~~~ Some eminence.
And see the country, far diffused around.
One boundless blush, one white empurpled shower
Of mingled blossoms.