In dedication to Arleen...because she felt nature and all it's beauty.
To Spring
- O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
- Through the clear windows of the morning, turn
- Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
- Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
- The hills tell one another, and the listening
- Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn'd
- Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth
- And let thy holy feet visit our clime!
- Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
- Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste
- Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
- Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.
- O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
- Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
- Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
- Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.
- ~William Blake~
