to spring - hans gál lyrics
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o thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
thro’ the clear windows of the morning, turn
thine angel eyes upon our western isle
which in full choir hails thy approach, o spring!
the hills tell each other, and the list’ning
valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth
and let thy holy feet visit our clime
come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds
kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
upon our love*sick land that mourns for thee
o deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
thy golden crown upon her languish’d head
whose modest tresses were bound up for thee
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