After dark vapours have oppress’d our plains

 After dark vapours have oppress’d our plains For a long dreary season, comes a day Born of the gentle South, and clears away From the sick heavens all unseemly stains. The anxious month, relieved of all its pains, Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May; The eyelids with the passing coolness play Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains. The calmest thoughts come round us; as of leaves Budding-fruit ripening in stillness-Autumn suns Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves- Sweet Sappho’s cheek-a smiling infant’s breath- The gradual sand through an hour-glass runs- A woodland rivulet-a Poet’s death.