 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
[Be glad, my spirit, for the world of snows]
Be glad, my spirit, for the world of snowsHas turned to one of greenness and of grace;
No longer the harsh breath of Winter blows,
But genial breezes fan me in the face;
Voices, long silent, wake to joyous sound,
Waters, long sullen, twinkle as they run;
Fresh flowers begin to constellate the ground,
Warmed into beauty by a brighter sun.
All seasons have their charms; but unto me,
Whose ailing frame has shivered in the blast,
Whose mind with sombre cares is overcast,
How sweet is Springtide's hope-inspiring glee!
April, on welcome but capricious wing,
Leaps o'er the verdant hills, and Nature cries, “'Tis Spring!”
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |