Ask Me No More
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; / The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
Now fades the last long streak of snow,
Now burgeons every maze of quick
About the flowering squares, and thick
By ashen roots the violets blow.
Now rings the woodland loud and long,
The distance takes a lovelier hue,
And drowned in yonder living blue
The lark becomes a sightless song.
Now dance the lights on lawn and lea,
The flocks are whiter down the vale,
And milkier every milky sail,
On winding stream or distant sea;
Where now the seamew pipes, or dives
In yonder greening gleam, and fly
The happy birds, that change their sky
To build and brood, that live their lives
From land to land; and in my breast
Spring wakens too: and my regret
Become an April violet,
And buds and blossoms like the rest.
Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea; / The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
Beautiful city, the centre and crater of European confusion, / O you with your passionate shriek for the rights of an equal
The path by which we twain did go, / ; ; ; ;Which led by tracts that pleased us well,
Sad Hesper o'er the buried sun / ; ; ; ;And ready, thou, to die with him,