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Poem by Henry James Pye
Hail earliest of the opening flowers! Fair Harbinger of vernal hours! Who dar'st unveil each silken fold Ere Sol dispels the wintry cold, And with thy silver leaves display'd Spread lustre through the dreary glade.Ч What though no frgarance like the rose Tincturing the Zephyr as it blows, Thy humble flowers from earth exhale To scent the pinions of the gale; What though no hues of gaudy dye Strike with their dazzling charms the eye, Nor does thy sober foliage shew Each blended tint of Iris' bow; Yet in thy meek unsullied grace Imagination's eye shall trace The glowing blossoms that appear Proudly to paint the vernal year, And smiling Maia's blushing dyes, And jocund Summer's cloudless skies, And Autumn's labors which succeed To bid the purple vintage bleed, Our hopes anticipating see Led on in radiant train by thee.
Henry James Pye
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