Sleep, motley, with the great of ancient days,
Who wrote for all the years that yet shall be!
Sleep with Herodotus, whose name and praise
Have reached the isles of earth’s remotest sea;
Sleep, while, defiant of the slow decays
Of time, thy glorious...

Take back into thy bosom, earth,
  This joyous, May-eyed morrow,
The gentlest child that ever mirth
  Gave to be reared by sorrow!
’T is hard—while rays half green, half gold,
  Through vernal bowers are burning,
And streams their diamond mirrors...

Back to the flower-town, side by side,
    The bright months bring,
New-born, the bridegroom and the bride,
    Freedom and spring.

The sweet land laughs from sea to sea,
    Filled full of sun;
All things come back to her, being free;...