The fiat hath gone forth;
From Winter's nerveless grasp The frozen chains unclasp; King Freedom rules our North.

From out his long repose
Fair Ocean sings again; Low wail, or sweet refrain In every breeze that blows.

See! from the listening hills
The whitened mantle glides; Whilst 'gulfed in full spring-tides Are lost the murmuring rills.

Ring out ye woodland notes!
Trill through the brightening blue; Loud swell the anthem new, Which nature heavenward floats.

For zephyr fannÈd river,
For gently swaying trees, Voice, in each passing breeze, The praise of life's Great Giver.

Now firelight's lurid gleam
Gives place to greening slope; Where youth, miraged of hope, Sees roseate vistas beam.

Hails in each star of eve,
Each lustrous, lengthening day Of joyous roundelay, A world where none may grieve.

Blessed morning of the year!
Lone sickness greets the voice Which waketh to rejoice, From high to lowliest sphere.

The tiller of the soil
Goes forth in purpose strong; For Spring's exultant song Wreathes round the head of toil.

Earth! nurture well the seed;
Sun! gild the swelling grain; Heaven! sap the thirsty plain; Till plenty answers need.

Breathe out, Oh genial Spring!
Thy teachings over all; Till, manna-like, shall fall, Soft peace where tumults ring.

Then shall the wondrous story
On nature's vivid page Gleam, till millennial age Doth flood the world with glory.