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POEMS. 105
��IV. THE WAKING YEAR.
A LADY red upon the hill
- ^ Her annual secret keeps ;
A lady white within the field In placid lily sleeps !
The tidy breezes with their brooms Sweep vale, and hill, and tree !
Prithee, my pretty housewives ! Who may expected be ?
The neighbors do not yet suspect !
The woods exchange a smile Orchard, and buttercup, and bird
In such a little while !
And yet how still the landscape stands, How nonchalant the wood,
As if the resurrection Were nothing very odd 1
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