Freshling

There comes the gentle steps of spring / So delicate of hues & fair / Rich greens—& glad birds glossy wing / Fanning the freshling hedges there

He blundered through the lighted stretch of fresh strewn hours, / Nor looked to profit at glad life in freshling flowers

Mere freshlings are they, blank of brow, / Who read not how / Its prime had passed before / Their raw equipments, scenes, and says / Afflicted its memoried face, / That had seen every larger phase / Of human ways / Before these filled the place.