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Strange power of heat! thou yet dost show
Like winter-earth, naked or cloth'd with snow:
But as, the quickening sun approaching near,
The plants arise up by degrees;
A sudden paint adorns the trees,
And all kind Nature's characters appear.
Like winter-earth, naked or cloth'd with snow:
But as, the quickening sun approaching near,
The plants arise up by degrees;
A sudden paint adorns the trees,
And all kind Nature's characters appear.
So, nothing yet in thee is seen;
But, when a genial heat warms thee within,
A new-born wood of various lines there grows;
Here buds an A, and there a B,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.
But, when a genial heat warms thee within,
A new-born wood of various lines there grows;
Here buds an A, and there a B,
Here sprouts a V, and there a T,
And all the flourishing letters stand in rows.
Still, silly paper! thou wilt think
That all this might as well be writ with ink:
Oh, no; there's sense in this, and mystery—
Thou now mayst change thy author's name,
And to her hand lay noble claim;
For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee.
That all this might as well be writ with ink:
Oh, no; there's sense in this, and mystery—
Thou now mayst change thy author's name,
And to her hand lay noble claim;
For, as she reads, she makes, the words in thee.
Yet—if thine own unworthiness
Will still that thou art mine, not hers confess—
Consume thyself with fire before her eyes,
And so her grace or pity move:
The gods, though beasts they do not love,
Yet like them when they're burnt in sacrifice.
Will still that thou art mine, not hers confess—
Consume thyself with fire before her eyes,
And so her grace or pity move:
The gods, though beasts they do not love,
Yet like them when they're burnt in sacrifice.
