Quatrains

A Diamond look how it sparkles, see it greet With laughing light the ambient air; One little drop of sunshine sweet Held in eternal bondage there. SPRING A WHISPER on the heath I hear, And blossoms deck the waking wood; Ah! surely now the virgin year Is in her blushing maidenhood. MARCH WHITHER doth now this fellow flee With outstretched arms at such mad pace? Can the young rascal thinking be To catch a glimpse of April’s face? APRIL MAIDEN, thy cheeks with tears are wet, And ruefully thine eyebrows arch; Is ’t as they say, thou thinkest yet Of that inconstant madcap March? A SUNSET THE SUN, departing, kissed the summer Sky, Then bent an instant o’er her beating breast; She lifts to him a timid, tear-stained eye, And, lo! her blushes crimson all the west.