spring days

Spring

By the murmur of a spring,
Or the least of leaves rustle ling,
By a daisy whose leaves spread love,
Shut when Titan goes to bed,
Or a shady bush or tree,
that could more infuse in me
Than all Nature's beauties can
In some other wiser man.
By her help I can also now
Make this churlish place allow
Something that may sweeten gladness
In the very gall of sadness--
The dull loneliness, the black shade,
That these hanging vaults have made
The strange music of the waves
Beating on these hollow caves,
This black den which rocks emboss,
Overgrown with eldest moss,
The rude portals that give light
More to terror than delight,
This my chamber of neglect