  With gladsome note the robin debonair Heralds bright May. Pale sky and earth-stained snow Warm at the touch of south winds as they blow Their wafts of life through winter's lingering air. Hid, like some laughing child, shy Mayflower fair, Beneath the leafy shield, with face aglow, Thy pearly self the coy spring's first tableau, Come to the day and yield thy fragrance rare! Ah me! while thrushes pipe and plumy winds Fan northward all their balmy fervors sweet, And groves are misty with the reddening bud, A gentle spirit from the past unbinds The peace of Lethe, and with quickening beat Stirs to divine unrest my fevered blood. |
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