Throughout the vale again Narcissus cries

And Echo answers from her dark retreat,

While Zephyr heavy-laden with the sweet,

Fresh scent of blooms across the pasture hies;

Above, the blueness of the April skies,

Matched by the lure unto the wandering feet

That e’er must go ere Spring could be complete

To the green wood where laughing Eros lies.

O April lover, hear the pipes that call,

The pipes of Pan a-blowing lustily,

They call to you and me, and he who hears

Must ever after be Young April’s thrall—

So, faring thus together, we shall see

The Islands of the Blest between the Spheres!