SONNETS SUGGESTED BY THE SEASONS.

I.

FEBRUARY 1ST, 1842.

ONE month is past, another is begun,
Since merry bells rung out the dying year,
And buds of rarest green began to peer,
As if impatient for a warmer sun;

And though the distant hills are bleak and dun,
The virgin snowdrop, like a lambent fire,
Pierces the cold earth with its green-streak'd spire;
And in dark woods the wandering little one
May find a primrose. Thus the better mind
Puts forth some flowers, escaped from Paradise,
Though faith be dim as faintest wintry skies,
And passion fierce as January wind.

O God, vouchsafe a sunbeam clear and kind,
To cheer the pining flow'ret ere it dies.

II.

MARCH, 1846.

Now Nature in her vernal green is clad,
And windy March puts on the robe of May;
The primrose is abroad, the buds half-way
Open their lips; all things are blithe and glad :
Then wherefore should I droop in semblance sad,
And contradict the promise of the air?

Ah, me! I can but think of those that were,
And now are not-of those dear friends I had,
And have not. Alice, thou art very meek,
And hast the faith that makes affliction good.
It would be wholesome to my perilous mood
If I could see the tear upon thy cheek.
Methinks we could talk out a day—a week,

Of those we loved. Oh, Alice! would we could.

III.

THE VERNAL SHOWER.

WELCOME once more, my pretty Lady Spring:
So young a Spring we have not seen for years.
Even thy brief morning fit of girlish tears
Was bright and sweet as droppings from the wing
Of kindly sylph, through ether voyaging

On some good errand to the distant spheres ;
And every bud and blade, to which adheres
The pure aspersion, seems a conscious thing,
Renew'd in spirit. Light the birdie leaps,
Shaking translucent gems from every spray ;
And merrily down the many-shadow'd steeps
The streamlets whiten, all in new array.
Joy to the vale if Summer do but keep
The bounteous promise of this April day.

GRASMERE, April, 1842.