  NOW once again, thou lovely Spring, Thy sight the day beguiles; For fresher greens the fairy ring, The daisy brighter smiles: The winds, that late with chiding voice Would fain thy stay prolong, Relent, while little birds rejoice, And mingle into song. Undaunted maiden, thou shalt find Thy home in gleaming woods, Thy mantle in the southern wind, Thy wreath in swelling buds: And may thy mantle wrap thee round, And hopes still warm and thrive, And dews with every morn be found To keep thy wreath alive. May coming suns, that tempt thy flowers, Smile on as they begin; And gentle be succeeding hours As those that bring thee in; Full lovely are thy dappled skies, Pearl’d round with promised showers, And sweet thy blossoms round thee rise To meet the sunny hours. The primrose bud, thy early pledge, Sprouts ’neath each woodland tree, And violets under every hedge Prepare a seat for thee: As maids just meeting woman’s bloom Feel love’s delicious strife, So Nature warms to find thee come, And kindles into life. Through hedge-row leaves, in drifted heaps Left by the stormy blast, The little hopeful blossom peeps, And tells of winter past: A few leaves flutter from the woods, That hung the season through, Leaving their place for swelling buds To spread their leaves anew. ’Mong withered grass upon the plain, That lent the blast a voice, The tender green appears again, And creeping things rejoice; Each warm bank shines with early flowers, Where oft a lonely bee Drones, venturing on in sunny hours, Its humming song to thee. The birds are busy on the wing, The fish play in the stream; And many a hasty curdled ring Crimps round the leaping bream; The buds unfold to leaves apace, Along the hedge-row bowers, And many a child with rosy face Is seeking after flowers. The soft wind fans the violet blue, Its opening sweets to share, And infant breezes, waked anew, Play in the maidens’ hair— Maidens that freshen with thy flowers, To charm the gentle swain, And dally, in their milking hours, With lovers’ vows again. Bright dews illume the grassy plain, Sweet messengers of morn, And drops hang glistening after rain Like gems on every thorn; What though the grass is moist and rank Where dews fall from the tree, The creeping sun smiles on the bank And warms a seat for thee. The eager morning earlier wakes To glad thy fond desires, And oft its rosy bed forsakes Ere night’s pale moon retires; Sweet shalt thou feel the morning sun To warm thy dewy breast, And chase the chill mist’s purple dun That lingers in the west. Her dresses Nature gladly trims, To hail thee as her queen, And soon shall fold thy lovely limbs In modest garb of green: Each day shall like a lover come Some gifts with thee to share, And swarms of flowers shall quickly bloom To dress thy golden hair. All life and beauty warm and smile Thy lovely face to see, And many a hopeful hour beguile In seeking joys with thee; The sweetest hours that ever come Are those which thou dost bring, And sure the fairest flowers that bloom Are partners of the Spring. I’ve met the Winter’s biting breath In nature’s wild retreat, When Silence listens as in death, And thought its wildness sweet; And I have loved the Winter’s calm When frost has left the plain, When suns that morning waken’d warm Left eve to freeze again. I’ve heard in Autumn’s early reign Her first, her gentlest song; I’ve mark’d her change o’er wood and plain, And wish’d her reign were long; Till winds like armies, gather’d round, And stripp’d her colour’d woods, And storms urged on, with thunder-sound Their desolating floods. And Summer’s endless stretch of green, Spread over plain and tree, Sweet solace to my eyes has been, As it to all must be; Long I have stood his burning heat, And breathed the sultry day, And walk’d and toil’d with weary feet, Nor wish’d his pride away. But oft I’ve watch’d the greening buds Brush’d by the linnet’s wing, When, like a child, the gladden’d woods First lisp the voice of Spring; When flowers, like dreams, peep every day, Reminding what they bring; I’ve watch’d them, and am warn’d to pay A preference to Spring. |
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