 | Laurella and other poems |  |
89
SPRING SONG.
Spring, Spring, sweetest Spring,
How shall I give thee welcoming?
When thy blue eye peeps from the sky,
Larks must sing, and so must I!
How shall I give thee welcoming?
When thy blue eye peeps from the sky,
Larks must sing, and so must I!
Primrose-time and cowslip-time
Have had their echoes in my rhyme;
But the first bright days that give
Frost-nipt violets leave to live,
And, the hedgerows brown between,
With seldom daisies prank the green;
Days that set clear streamlets glittering,
And the keen-eyed sparrows twittering,
That make the grass grow in the lanes,
And breathe sweet change o'er hills and plains,
Zoning with opal the grey sea—
How full of budding bliss they be!
Have had their echoes in my rhyme;
But the first bright days that give
Frost-nipt violets leave to live,
And, the hedgerows brown between,
With seldom daisies prank the green;
Days that set clear streamlets glittering,
And the keen-eyed sparrows twittering,
That make the grass grow in the lanes,
And breathe sweet change o'er hills and plains,
Zoning with opal the grey sea—
How full of budding bliss they be!
But be they foul or be they fair,
Thy odorous breath is in the air—
Glad am I, ask me not why,
Larks must sing, and so must I!
Thy odorous breath is in the air—
Glad am I, ask me not why,
Larks must sing, and so must I!
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