  I come! I come! ye have called me long; I come o’er the mountains, with light and song! Ye may trace my steps o’er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass. I have sent through the wood paths a glowing sigh, And called out each voice of the deep blue sky, From the night bird’s lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan’s wild note, by the Iceland lakes, Where the dark fir branch into verdure breaks. From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain; They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flashing down from the mountain brows, They are flinging spray o’er the forest boughs, They are bursting fresh from their sparry caves, And the earth resounds with the joy of waves! Come forth, O ye children of gladness, come! Where the violets lie may be now your home. Ye of the rose lip and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay. A young woman carries a garland of leaves and flowers through woodland F.A. Kaulbach (modern). Spring. |
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