So with superior boon may your rich soil Exuberant, Nature's better blessings pour O'er every land, the naked nations clothe, And be th' exhaustless granary of a world. Nor only through the lenient air this change, Delicious, breathes: the penetrative sun, His force deep-darting to the dark retreat Of vegetation, sets the steaming power At large, to wander o'er the verdant earth, In various hues--but chiefly thee, gay green! Thou smiling Nature's universal robe, United light and shade, where the sight dwells With growing strength and ever new delight. From the moist meadow to the withered hill, Led by the breeze, the vivid verdure runs, And swells and deepens to the cherished eye. The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy forest stands displayed In full luxuriance to the sighing gales, Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, And the birds sing concealed. At once, arrayed In all the colours of the flushing year By Nature's swift and secret-working hand, The garden glows, and fills the liberal air With lavished fragrance, while the promised fruit Lies yet a little embryo, unperceived, Within its crimson folds. Now from the town, Buried in smoke and sleep and noisome damps, Oft let me wander o'er the dewy fields, Where freshness breathes, and dash the trembling drops From the bent bush, as through the verdant maze Of sweet-briar hedges I pursue my walk; Or taste the smell of dairy; or ascend Some eminence, Augusta, in thy plains, And see the country, far diffused around, One boundless blush, one white-empurpled shower Of mingled blossoms, where the raptured eye Hurries from joy to joy, and, hid beneath The fair profusion, yellow Autumn spies. * * * * * What is this mighty breath, ye sages, say, That in a powerful language, felt not heard, Instructs the fowl of heaven, and through their breast These arts of love diffuses? What but God? Inspiring God! who boundless spirit all, And unremitting energy, pervades, Adjusts, sustains, and agitates the whole. He ceaseless works alone, and yet alone Seems not to work; with such perfection framed Is this complex, stupendous scheme of things. But, though concealed, to every purer eye Th' informing author in his works appears: Chief, lovely Spring, in thee, and thy soft scenes, The smiling God is seen; while water, earth, And air attest his bounty; which exalts The brute creation to this finer thought, And annual melts their undesigning hearts Profusely thus in tenderness and joy,