University of Virginia Library

Spring.

Old winter has gone with his snow and his sleet,
With his cold, and his raw north wind;
But his cheerful hearths, leave their memory sweet,
On many a heart, and mind.
Young spring has come—bright rosy spring,
With her hope, and promise of corn;
And the sweet buds ope—while the little birds sing,
And chirp in the beamy morn.
Young hearts are glad—the grass blade peeps,
Amid declining snows;
And the swallow on light wings darts, and sweeps;
And the trees put forth their blows.
The ice-bound waters, gush with new life,
And lave the shore with their tide,
And the white-winged craft, with joy are rife,
As o'er its bosom it they glide.
And smiling May, her flowers lend,
To garnish hill, and vale;
And opening buds their perfume send,
Upon each passing gale.
All o'er the face of nature fair;
All animation smiles;
And all inhale the balmy air,
Wafted o'er sunny Isles.
Sweet spring has come, sweet blushing spring,
With fragrant buds, and flowers,
And the warbler's sing, most sweetly sing,
Amid her sunny bowers.