  The creamy dogwood branches, The rosy redbud trees, The drifts of sweet wild-plum bloom O’erhung by honey bees, The gleaming buckeye blossoms The south wind blew apart, Oh, all the woods awaking, They overfilled my heart! Then clear, from out a thicket, There rang that golden note That flutes from none but only The tawny thrush’s throat; So charged with all sweet secrets The April has to tell, I bowed my head and harkened, Enchanted by its spell. Till presently that magic Heart-melting melody Drew all my soul to meet it In sudden ecstasy. My spirit found its pinions In blessed bird-like birth, And knew the joyous passion That thrilled through all the earth. I heard the violets stir, And through the dreamy woodlands The breaking buds confer; I half divined the glories Of all the springs to be, —When, O, the song was silent! The thrush had flown, ah me!
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