Succeeding winter's baldness,
Yet fairer than the whole to me
Are Arvon's maids so guile-less.

If to the sick there is delight
To heal of his affliction,
If to the traveller's weary sight
Sweet is the destination,
Than all these sweeter far to me
The hills and dales of Arvon.

Had I the wings and speed of morn
To skim o'er mount and valley,
I'd hie o'er earth and sea direct
To Arvon's genial country,
And there in peace would end my days,
Far from deceit and envy.



TO THE SPRING.


Oh, come gentle spring, and visit the plain,
Far scatter the frost from our border,
All nature cries loud for the sunshine and rain,
For the howl of the winter is over.

Approach gentle spring, and show the white snow
Thou cans't melt it by smiles and caresses,