Spring luscious

LAMBS AT PLAY by Robert Bloomfield

Say, ye that know, ye who have felt and seen
Spring’s morning smiles, and soul-enlivening green,-
Say, did you give the thrilling transport way,
Did your eye brighten, when young lambs at play
Leaped o’er your path with animated pride,
Or gazed in merry clusters by your side?
Ye who can smile - to wisdom, no disgrace-
At the arch meaning of a kitten’s face;
If spotless innocence and infant mirth
Excites to praise, or gives reflection birth;
In shades like these pursue your favorite joy,
Midst nature’ revels, sports that never cloy.
A few begin a short but vigorous race,
And indolence, abashed soon flies the place:
Thus challenged forth, see thither, one by one,
From every side, assembling playmates run;
A thousand wily antics mark their stay,
A starting crowd, impatient of delay;
Like the fond dove from fearful prison freed,
Each seems to say, "come, let us try our speed";
Away they scour, impetuous, ardent, strong,
The green turf trembling as they bound along
Adown the slope, then up the hillock climb,
Where every mol-hill is a bed of thyme,
Then, panting, stop; yet scarcely can refrain,
A bird , a leaf, will set them off again:
Or, of a gale with strength unusual blow,
Scattering the wild-briar roses into snow,
Their little limbs increasing efforts try;
Like the torn flower, the fair assemblage fly,
Ah, fallen rose! Sad emblem of their doom;
Frail as thyself, they perish while they bloom!