110 BIRDS AND POETS 



steering for the uplands, the cow lowmg in the 

 highway or hiding her calf in the bushes, the first 

 fires, the smoke going up through the shining atmos- 

 phere, from the burning of rubbish in gardens and 

 old fields, etc., — each of these simple things fills the 

 breast with yearning and delight, for they are tokens 

 of the spring. The best spring poems have this 

 singleness and sparseness. Listen to Solomon: "For 

 lo, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone; 

 the flowers appear on the earth; the time of the 

 singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle 

 is heard in our land." In Wordsworth are some 

 things that breathe the air of spring. These lines, 

 written in early spring, afford a good specimen : — 



"I heard a thousand blended notes, 

 "While in a grove I sate reclined, 

 In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 

 Bring sad thoughts to the mind." 



" To her fair works did Nature link 



The human soul that through me ran ; 

 And much it grieved my heart to think 

 What man has made of man. 



" Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, 

 The periwinkle trailed its wreaths ; 

 And 't is my faith that every flower 

 Enjoys the air it breathes. 



" The birds around me hopped and played, 

 Their thoughts I cannot measure ; 

 But the least motion which they made 

 It seemed a thrill of pleasure." 



Or these from another poem, written in his usual 

 study, " Out-of- Doors, " and addressed to his sister : — 



