Ambergris

AMBERGRIS 25 FROM MYSTERIES In the Woods with Shelley Sing, happy nightingale, sing ; Past is the season of weeping ; Birds in the wood are on wing, Lambs in the meadow are leaping. Can there be any delight still in the buttercups sleeping ? Dawn, paler daffodil, dawn ; Smile, for the winter is over ; Sunlight makes golden the lawn, Spring comes and kisses the clover ; All the wild woodlands await poet and songster and lover. Linger, dew, linger ! and gem All the fresh flowers in the garland ! Blossom, leaf, bud and green stem Flash with your light to some far land, Where men shall wonder if you be not a newly- born starland. Ah ! The sweet scents of the woods ! Ah ! the sweet sounds of the heaven ! Sights of impetuous floods, Foam like the daisy at even, Folding o’er passionate gold petals that sunrise had riven ! See, like my life is the stream Now its desire is grown quiet ; Life was a passionate dream Once, when light fancy ran riot,