Poem Hunter
To Spring
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827 / London)

To Spring

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 listening
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 languished head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

User Rating: 2,9 / 5 ( 69 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

I like this poem very much, as most of Blake's other writitngs I truly do not understand the people giving him ratings anything less than full marks.
Superb descriptions of Spring.......