LXXV
Reading edition
IN springtime, when pale primroses in flower, Oft interspersed with blue forget-me-nots, Are all in bloom, and the wild violet dots The mossy field, while many a floral shower Of new-mown hay falls in some shady bower, Then my own heart doth, like new garden-plots, Warm with the sun, that unto love allots A portion of contentment as its dower. Thus in thy haloed presence let me sing, Lightheartedly, with thy dear hand in mine, Through many a waving, daisy-scattered field, Where summer doth succeed the reign of spring. And let mine arm thy being half entwine With roses, or whate’er the seasons yield.