by Ω.
Originally published in The Metropolitan (James Cochrane) vol.1 #3 (Jul 1831).
She comes, she comes, with her flashing eyes,
And her cheek of passion's hue,
Mid a train of aërial symphonies,
In her garment of cloudless blue:
She comes with her spell upon earth and skies,
Over land and over sea,
In her warm maturity,
She comes! she comes!
Dark is her brow from the hot sun-beam,
Swarth child of a southern clime;
Her march deepening radiance on valley and stream,
Like glory enlightening by time:
She comes, earth exults, the hills leap at her name,
A thousand hearts spring,
A thousand vales ring—
"She comes! she comes!"
At her day-spring all breathes of that Eden bright,
For the Dead Sea apple given;
She strews amber and pearl with her fingers of light,
From the portals of eastern heaven,
And in chariot of purple and dew meets the night;
The pride of the year
In her golden career—
She comes! she comes!
In her sun-lit eyes let me bask again!
O kind is her presence to me,
Since the east-wind blight made the blossom vain,
And the flower that feeds the bee;—
While Nature is smiling o'er mountain and plain,
Over brook and over sea,
In her beauty joyously,
She comes! she comes!