Poems 1817

Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake;His healthful spirit eager and awakeTo feel the beauty of a silent eve, Which seem'd full loath this happy world to leave;The light dwelt o'er the scene so lingeringly.He bares his forehead to the cool blue sky, And smiles at the far clearness all around, Until his heart is well nigh over wound, And turns for calmness to the pleasant greenOf easy slopes, and shadowy trees that leanSo elegantly o'er the waters' brimAnd show their blossoms trim.Scarce can his clear and nimble eye-sight followThe freaks, and dartings of the black-wing'd swallow, Delighting much, to see it half at rest, Dip so refreshingly its wings, and