Harken! - the clouds muster?in dark -   So painfully easing.   Hush! - hearest ye the yew doting;   Its years of yore in a mire,   Each like a corpse within its grave;   Wrought for us a yearn of lief;   \'Tis not a lore of bale nor loathe;   Harmony and ?hesia are its blisses;   Ne\'er ere hath it exist\'d so sonorously -   Jostl\'d away the pale drape   That us had been o\'erhung -   Tempt\'d thy shutters to open   And thus quench\'d the hearth;   Thou giv\'st to misery all thou hast: the cold -   With weal embrac\'d the sprouting landscape   Like a star of heaven in the broad daylight -   This joy conquereth until it again waneth,   Save the drooping winter of stalwart.