Morning Pleasures

The dewy virtues of the early morn
Breathe rich of health, and lead the mind to joy;
While, like a thrilling pleasure newly born,
Each little hamlet wakes its shouting boy
Right earlily, to wander out a-field,
Brushing the dew-drops from the bending corn,
To see what nests are in the hedge-row thorn;
What cuckoo-flowers the neighbouring pastures yield;
Where, 'mid the dark dog-mercury that abounds
Round each moss stump, the woodlark hides her nest.
The delicate hare-bell, that her home surrounds,
Bows its soft fragrance o'er her spotted breast,
Till startled, from the boy's rude step she flies,
Who turns the weeds away, and vainly seeks the prize.