 | Songs in the Whirlwind |  |
SPRING.
As the first breath of dawn when shrouding night
Flies westward on her silent beating wings;
As the bright song of hope the skylark sings
When lost afar in the gray morning light:
As the wild thrill of joys our hearts requite,
As Youth's fair promise, as the life that springs
From his young heart, as the new hope that brings
A flush to every pallid cheek and white:
Flies westward on her silent beating wings;
As the bright song of hope the skylark sings
When lost afar in the gray morning light:
As the wild thrill of joys our hearts requite,
As Youth's fair promise, as the life that springs
From his young heart, as the new hope that brings
A flush to every pallid cheek and white:
As the rebirth of every thwarted aim,
Of buried love, of every shattered dream;
As the faint scents of every fresh'ning wind
Which whispers of the land from whence it came;
As some fair maid whose wind-blown tresses stream,
Whose heart is free, so is the Spring I find.
Of buried love, of every shattered dream;
As the faint scents of every fresh'ning wind
Which whispers of the land from whence it came;
As some fair maid whose wind-blown tresses stream,
Whose heart is free, so is the Spring I find.
| Songs in the Whirlwind | |