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143
SPRING CAROL.
'T is the Spring! and she comes
With the light from her crown
And her joy-kindling eye,
On the earth beaming down!
She has breathed on the stream,
On the hill, and the plain;
And her warm smiles have melted
Each cold, wintry chain.
Fountains leaping, vinelets creeping,
Mark where she moves;
Tendrils clinging, sweet birds singing
Tell how she loves.
With the light from her crown
And her joy-kindling eye,
On the earth beaming down!
She has breathed on the stream,
On the hill, and the plain;
And her warm smiles have melted
Each cold, wintry chain.
Fountains leaping, vinelets creeping,
Mark where she moves;
Tendrils clinging, sweet birds singing
Tell how she loves.
With her life-quickening foot,
On the soil where she stepped,
She aroused the young germs
That in darkness had slept.
'T is her pearl on the grass,
'T is her balm on the breeze,
And her green mantle cast
On the old forest-trees!
Her young daughters, by the waters,—
While the brooks glide,—
Sedge and cresses, lave their tresses
In the clear tide.
On the soil where she stepped,
She aroused the young germs
That in darkness had slept.
'T is her pearl on the grass,
'T is her balm on the breeze,
And her green mantle cast
On the old forest-trees!
Her young daughters, by the waters,—
While the brooks glide,—
Sedge and cresses, lave their tresses
In the clear tide.
144
'T is the Spring!—on the boughs
Are her bright blossoms spread,
And her spice from their hearts
On the air freely shed.
'T is her voice from the grove,
With its wild, dulcet notes,
Which at morn, noon, and eve
On the bland zephyr floats.
She uncloses lilies, roses,—
Cups full and free,
Where the humming-bird is coming,
And the glad bee.
Are her bright blossoms spread,
And her spice from their hearts
On the air freely shed.
'T is her voice from the grove,
With its wild, dulcet notes,
Which at morn, noon, and eve
On the bland zephyr floats.
She uncloses lilies, roses,—
Cups full and free,
Where the humming-bird is coming,
And the glad bee.
Withered age totters forth,
With his staff, from the door,
As a new pulse of life
Stirs his form pale and hoar.
With his dull eye made quick
By the Spring's cheering voice,
He perceives earth and heaven,
And his own soul rejoice.
Children tripping, insects skipping,
Tribes on the wing,
Sky,—earth,—ocean, in devotion,
Greet holy Spring!
With his staff, from the door,
As a new pulse of life
Stirs his form pale and hoar.
With his dull eye made quick
By the Spring's cheering voice,
He perceives earth and heaven,
And his own soul rejoice.
Children tripping, insects skipping,
Tribes on the wing,
Sky,—earth,—ocean, in devotion,
Greet holy Spring!
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