Execute Their Airy Purposes.

Now The Bright Morning-star, Day's Harbinger, Comes Dancing From The East, And Leads With Her The Flowery May, Who From Her Green Lap Throws The Yellow Cowslip And The Pale Primrose. Hail, Bounteous May, That Dost Inspire Mirth, And Youth, And Warm Desire! Woods And Groves Are Of Thy Dressing; Hill And Dale Doth Boast Thy Blessing. Thus We Salute Thee With Our Early Song, And Welcome Thee, And Wish Thee Long.

Till Old Experience Do Attain To Something Like Prophetic Strain.

Back To Thy Punishment, False Fugitive, And To Thy Speed Add Wings.

My Mansion Is, Where Those Immortal Shapes Of Bright Aerial Spirits Live Insphered In Regions Mild Of Calm And Serene Air, Above The Smoke And Stir Of This Dim Spot Which Men Call Earth.

With Cowslips Wan That Hang The Pensive Head, And Every Flower That Sad Embroidery Wears.