Milton and Stevenson

Milton's "Sonnet 7" 

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, 

       Stol'n on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! 

       My hasting days fly on with full career, 

       But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. 

Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth 

       That I to manhood am arriv'd so near; 

       And inward ripeness doth much less appear, 

       That some more timely-happy spirits endu'th. 

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, 

       It shall be still in strictest measure ev'n 

       To that same lot, however mean or high, 

Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav'n: 

       All is, if I have grace to use it so 

       As ever in my great Task-Master's eye.

"Spring Carol" by Robert Louis Stevenson

WHEN loud by landside streamlets gush,
And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,
With sun on the meadows
And songs in the shadows
Comes again to me
The gift of the tongues of the lea,
The gift of the tongues of meadows.

Straightway my olden heart returns
And dances with the dancing burns;
It sings with the sparrows;
To the rain and the (grimy) barrows
Sings my heart aloud -
To the silver-bellied cloud,
To the silver rainy arrows.

It bears the song of the skylark down,
And it hears the singing of the town;
And youth on the highways
And lovers in byways
Follows and sees:
And hearkens the song of the leas
And sings the songs of the highways.

So when the earth is alive with gods,
And the lusty ploughman breaks the sod,
And the grass sings in the meadows,
And the flowers smile in the shadows,
Sits my heart at ease,
Hearing the song of the leas,
Singing the songs of the meadows.