• Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire,
    Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
            Was nursed in whirling storms
            And cradled in the winds;

    Thee, when young Spring first questioned Winter’s sway,
    And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight,
            Thee on this bank he threw
            To mark his victory.

    In this...

  • UPON this Primrose hill,
    Where, if heaven would distil

    A shower of rain, each several drop might go

    To his own primrose, and grow manna so;

    And where their form, and their infinity
    ...