  The sunlight fills the trembling air, And balmy days their guerdons bring; The Earth again is young and fair, And amorous with musky spring. The golden nurslings of the May In splendor strew the spangled green, And hues of tender beauty play, Entangled where the willows lean. Mark how the rippled currents flow; What lustres on the meadows lie! And hark! the songsters come and go, And trill between the earth and sky. Who told us that the years had fled, Or borne afar our blissful youth? Such joys are all about us spread, We know the whisper was not truth. The birds that break from grass and grove Sing every carol that they sung When first our veins were rich with love, And May her mantle round us flung. O fresh-lit dawn! immortal life! O Earth's betrothal, sweet and true, With whose delights our souls are rife, And aye their vernal vows renew! Then, darling, walk with me this morn, Let your brown tresses drink its sheen; These violets, within them worn, Of floral fays shall make you queen. What though there comes a time of pain When autumn winds forebode decay? The days of love are born again; That fabled time is far away! And never seemed the land so fair As now, nor birds such notes to sing, Since first within your shining hair I wove the blossoms of the spring. Edmund Clarence Stedman. |
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