MUSIC OF THE GROVE. 243 



From you have I been absent in the Spring 



When proud-pied April, dressed in all its trim, 

 Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing 



That heavy Saturn laugh'd and leap'd with him. 

 Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 



Of different flowers in odour and in hue, 

 Could make me any Summer's story tell, 



Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew : 

 Nor did I wonder at the lilies white, 



Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose ; 

 They were but sweet, but figures of delight, 



Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. 

 Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, 

 As with your shadow I with these did play. 



We have also his beautiful allusion to the Lark 

 in another of his sonnets. 



When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 

 I all alone beweep my outcast state, 



# # # # 



Haply I think on thee, and then my state 

 (Like to the lark at break of day arising 



From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven's gate ; 

 For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings, 

 That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 



There are, however, few old genuine English 

 poets, whose merits are more generally acknow- 

 ledged by competent judges than those of Robert 

 Herrick. The beauties of his poetry have sustained 

 the test of time, and it has been said of it that u it 

 was the offspring of genius, not of cultivation." 

 The following extract, from his lines to Corinna 

 on the first of May, is peculiarly pleasing. 



