In
spots like these the shepherd loves to fling
His careless limbs neath the young leaves of spring
To muse upon some wild brooks hasty streams
& idly revel over waking dreams
Or stretched in carless mood upon his back
To view the blue sky & its sweeping rack
Lifting his fancies to each passing cloud
& shaping every one that journeys proud
Oer its mysterious way to forms & things
That fancys visions to his memory brings
Some like to rocks gleam in their wondering eye
Mid shoreless seas & some go swifter bye
Like mighty ships still charging on their way
To other ships more beautiful than they
Soft as the paper ships they often make
& float on curdling brook or meadow lake
Some white like palaces of marble seems
The towers of heaven which they’re called in dreams
& which his waking fancys grandly shine
The abodes of one that instant suns divine
Some like to mountains shadow high & some
Like the dear vales that nestle round their home
With cots & groves & fountains streaming bye
Spread lengthening seems to the musing eye
& thus they dream away their idle hours
Stretched on the trembling grass & nodding flowers
& wishing often on their summer beds
For the larks wings that whistles oer their heads
To realize their artless dreams & flye
To the soft bosom of the summer sky
To trace the seeming vales and mountains there
That hopeless distance personifys so fair
Each flower agen smiles thro the aching dew
Like lovly absent faces seen anew
Rich with the same purfumes & luscious smiles
They wake agen ones leisure to beguile
Like an old tale of pleasure told again
After long years of desolating pain
Pet MS A21
p6
(one of the alternative readings of 'Spring' from Midsummer Cushion - there are quite a few)
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