Sweet breeze that sett'st the summer birds a swaying, <br />Dear lambs amid the primrose meadows playing <br />Let me not think! <br />O floods, upon whose brink <br />The merry birds are maying, <br />Dream, softly dream! O blessed mother lead me <br />Unsevered from thy girdle — lead me! feed me! <br />I have no will but shine; <br />I need not but the juice <br />Of elemental wine— <br />Perish remoter use <br />Of strength reserved for conflict yet to come! <br />Let me be dumb, <br />As long as I may feel thy hand— <br />This, this is all—do ye not understand <br />How the great Mother mixes all our bloods ? <br />O breeze! O swaying buds! <br />O lambs, O primroses, O floods!<br /><br />Thomas Edward Brown<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lynton-verses/
