by Nithin Purple
Blossomed Spring from enchanted year,
Now may long lipped magic weave,
when Fair Persephone's love, unwrap
As thus azur'd flowers's wide appear.
O' wake with the darling season!
where green bosomed earth will pine,
For butterfly wings and cuckoo's flap,
And tame their consort's to the boon.
West wind adrift from Dorian dells,
And bliss as whose ascended harmony ,
Beguiled scent's among posy bands;
With murm'ring delight as they lolls.
And the blue skyward they did stretch;
Seen a train of Oscine's uprise,
Therein they tweets,and slides afield,
To that moss-bloomed wilder couch.
Lo' golden harvest's round many beech,
With sweet-lushest fruits and overjoy,
From clusters of tiny yellow flowers,
With sassafras trees brighten much.
Panting multitudes; bestir!
The enthusiast obeys this clime!
Yet sun with its moderate glance,
And flow'd a narrow brooklet fair.
Cyclamens in her tints of pink,
Bloom'd on the peaks of Meteora,
And lilies sprung from Olympus,
With yellow starlike daisies blink.
Nature has embellish rare as may
Its dew-gemm'd primroses glitter'd up,
To show pride for each budding weed,
Since from skies nought a ray dismay
T'is the ancient sculptured high-land,
Of flowers and long- age heritage;
which decorates fields and plateaus;
The steep mountains of peaceful land.
Woodland sedges outgrowing beneath,
Where Grasshopper's find frisky time,
which keen to that syrupy spring,
As Greece bows the grandeur of Earth.
Look yon paradise;glides Athenian aura
Its well seen beauty as from golden car descent,
Whose spells did charm and bliss those outstretched flora-
Are Inspir'd by winds,with pleasures, too pleasant.
Thence Fair Arcadian pines grown,
Being nursed by some glory mists;
of argent fumes,the trees they drown
Are such by year's balmy effects.
Life's renewal came and pacey flown
As spark's that roused eager jets,
Those spirits by clear morning grown;
encompasses the extend'd spots.
Yet deep beauty,still more to sooth
To mingled earth we humble lay-
Will,ward off infectious dearth,
And pensive dirge no more to may
Oft when Peace its soft passion glee,
sensible to every birth,triumph-
And smooth revival on pastures see-
Is graced as from a deity nymph.
Glad brooms and blue-bells are they,these-
Ha! Countless violet-color'd fancy weft
Awhile this queering heart once ease
Him,Whose eyes see happy aloft?
Goddess, let lush,laughter this way-
In me thus soft a concord make
From this world’s yelling sway;
Let bursting buds they wake- awake
If duskiness awhile it fade
Aye,there joyous wings shall mature
In me, Spring if then rosy-clad
Sweet reflects this song from my musing lyre.
Last updated November 12, 2013