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Poem
May 20, 1843
Sunbury American And Shamokin Journal
Sunbury, Northumberland County, Pennsylvania
What is this article about?
Lyrical ode by Thomas Gray celebrating the arrival of spring, depicting nature's awakening with flocks, birds, and greenery, while reflecting on human joy, sorrow, and the balance of life's emotions.
Clipping
OCR Quality
98%
Excellent
Full Text
SPRING.
BY GRAY.
Now the golden morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing.
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft,
She woos the tardy Spring:
Till April stars and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground;
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New born flocks in rustic dance
Frisking, ply their feeble feet,
Forgetful of their wintry trance,
The birds his presence greet;
But chief the sky lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now, that wildly flow,
No yesterday or morrow know;
'Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflections hand can trace.
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace:
While hope prolongs our happiest hour,
Or deepest shades that dimly lower,
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue,
Behind the steps that misery treads
Approaching comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chasten'd by sabler tints of woe;
And blended, form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigor lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
BY GRAY.
Now the golden morn aloft
Waves her dew-bespangled wing.
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft,
She woos the tardy Spring:
Till April stars and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground;
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New born flocks in rustic dance
Frisking, ply their feeble feet,
Forgetful of their wintry trance,
The birds his presence greet;
But chief the sky lark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstasy;
And, lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now, that wildly flow,
No yesterday or morrow know;
'Tis man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes.
Smiles on past misfortune's brow
Soft reflections hand can trace.
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace:
While hope prolongs our happiest hour,
Or deepest shades that dimly lower,
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day.
Still where rosy pleasure leads,
See a kindred grief pursue,
Behind the steps that misery treads
Approaching comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow,
Chasten'd by sabler tints of woe;
And blended, form, with artful strife,
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigor lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
What sub-type of article is it?
Ode
Pastoral
What themes does it cover?
Nature Seasons
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Spring Ode
Nature Awakening
Joy Sorrow
Thomas Gray
Pastoral Reflection
Life Harmony
What entities or persons were involved?
By Gray.
Poem Details
Title
Spring.
Author
By Gray.
Subject
On The Coming Of Spring
Key Lines
Now The Golden Morn Aloft
Waves Her Dew Bespangled Wing.
With Vermeil Cheek And Whisper Soft,
She Woos The Tardy Spring:
'Tis Man Alone That Joy Descries
With Forward And Reverted Eyes.
The Hues Of Bliss More Brightly Glow,
Chasten'd By Sabler Tints Of Woe;
And Blended, Form, With Artful Strife,
The Strength And Harmony Of Life.
See The Wretch That Long Has Tost
On The Thorny Bed Of Pain,
At Length Repair His Vigor Lost,
And Breathe And Walk Again:
The Meanest Floweret Of The Vale,
The Simplest Note That Swells The Gale,
The Common Sun, The Air, The Skies,
To Him Are Opening Paradise.