 | Post-Laureate Idyls and other poems by Oscar Fay Adams |  |
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WHAT'S THE SWEETEST NEWS IN SPRING?
What's the sweetest news in spring
That the blithesome swallows bring,
When from southern lands they fly
Through our cloudier northern sky
After frosts and cold succumb?
That the blithesome swallows bring,
When from southern lands they fly
Through our cloudier northern sky
After frosts and cold succumb?
April's past and May has come!
One may hear it in the hum
Of the silly bees that seek
Honey from the petals meek
Of the violet and the daisy;
See it in the curving, hazy,
Vaporous line that marks a river
Winding slow where rushes quiver;
Feel it in the thrill that stirs
All the Maytide's messengers.
One may hear it in the hum
Of the silly bees that seek
Honey from the petals meek
Of the violet and the daisy;
See it in the curving, hazy,
Vaporous line that marks a river
Winding slow where rushes quiver;
Feel it in the thrill that stirs
All the Maytide's messengers.
May is come and April's past!
Joy of spring is here at last;
One may hear it in the note
Swelling from the bluebird's throat;
See it in the rosy snow
Heaped along the orchard row;
Feel it in the odors stealing
Forth from lily-banks revealing
Mid green spears small waxen bells.
Every sense the message tells
May is come and April's past;
Summer gladness ripens fast.
Joy of spring is here at last;
One may hear it in the note
Swelling from the bluebird's throat;
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Heaped along the orchard row;
Feel it in the odors stealing
Forth from lily-banks revealing
Mid green spears small waxen bells.
Every sense the message tells
May is come and April's past;
Summer gladness ripens fast.
April's past and May is come!
Greening woods no more are dumb;
Every tree is vocal now;
Every winter-twisted bough
Hides its scars with leaf or flower.
Now is come the fairest hour
Held in fee of all the year;
Winds breathe low and skies are clear;
Neither cold nor heat can smite;
All sweet influences unite
In the Maytide hour to make
Earth seem sweeter for our sake.
Who the winter's cold remembers
Or believes in drear Novembers
When of joy this is the sum,—
April's past and May has come?
That's the sweetest news in spring
Which the happy swallows bring.
Greening woods no more are dumb;
Every tree is vocal now;
Every winter-twisted bough
Hides its scars with leaf or flower.
Now is come the fairest hour
Held in fee of all the year;
Winds breathe low and skies are clear;
Neither cold nor heat can smite;
All sweet influences unite
In the Maytide hour to make
Earth seem sweeter for our sake.
Who the winter's cold remembers
Or believes in drear Novembers
When of joy this is the sum,—
April's past and May has come?
That's the sweetest news in spring
Which the happy swallows bring.
| Post-Laureate Idyls and other poems by Oscar Fay Adams | |