ODE TO THE MISSEL THRUSH. 77 When to the ivy that embowers Some pollard tree, or shelt'ring rock, The troop of timid warblers flock, And shudd'ring wait for milder hours. While thou! the leader of their band, Nor stay'st, till blow the breezes bland, Thou joy'st thy love-notes wild to sing, Oh, herald of the spring! while yet Braves the bleak gust and driving rain: For thee, then, may the hawthorn bush, 78 CLIFTON HILL. With all their various berries blush, And the blue sloe abound for thee! Its armed and glossy leaves among, And many a branchèd oak be hung Still may thy nest, with lichen lined, To bear thy callow young away: SMITH. CLIFTON HILL. THOUGH slow and pensive now the moments roll, Successive months shall from our torpid soul Hurry these scenes again; the laughing hours. Advancing swift, shall strew spontaneous flowers; ON A SPRIG OF HEATH. The early-peeping snowdrop, crocus mild, All Nature's sweets in joyous circles move, YEARSLEY. ON A SPRIG OF HEATH. FLOWER of the waste! the heath-fowl shuns To thy protecting shade she runs, Thy tender buds supply her food; Her young forsake her downy plumes, To rest upon thy opening blooms. 79 80 ON A SPRIG OF HEATH. Flower of the desert though thou art! The deer that range the mountain free, Their food and shelter seek from thee; Gem of the heath! whose modest bloom Flower of the wild! whose purple glow Nor garden's artful varied pride, With all its wealth of sweets could cheer, Like thee, the hardy mountaineer. Flower of his heart! thy fragrance mild peace and freedom seem to breathe; Of THE ANGLER. To pluck thy blossoms in the wild, And deck his bonnet with the wreath, Where dwelt of old his rustic sires, Is all his simple wish requires. Flower of his dear-loved native land! Looks homeward through the blinding tear, How must his aching heart deplore That home and thee he sees no more! 81 IZAAK WALTON. THOU that hast loved so long and well The vale's deep quiet streams, Shedding forth tender gleams; |