It is the spring time. Varied flowers are sending
Their new-born odors on the sighing breeze,
The sun its brightness from the sky is lending,
Flinging its kisses to the budding trees,
And Nature, lovely Nature fair doth seem,
As the creation of a poet’s dream.
The robin’s mellow strain in wild notes gushes
From the snow blossoms of the apple tree;
The cat-bird’s scolding from the leafy bushes,
The wren’s low music thrilling comes to me,
Seeming the hymns of Nature freely given,
As stainless offerings of its praise to Heaven.
Earth is a sea of verdure. Blossoms springing
All gem-like dewy from the velvet sod,
Like whispered melody their perfume flinging,
Earth’s altar’d incense rising up to God,—
Whose word I read in there as in his book,
When e’er their beauties meet my eager look.
Thro’ laughing verdure silvery is straying,
Reflecting, mirror-like, the pure calm sky,
A babbling stream, o’er rock and lichen playing,
Sweet as the softness of a loved one’s sigh—
Floating along with harmony as rife
As pass the hours in some bright day of life.
The river far away is calmly stealing,
Thro’ its green banks all glittering with light,
Like beaming fancies in the poet’s feeling,
Who worships ever all that’s fair and bright;
Creating images that living start
Warm from the gushings of his burning heart.
Yes! this is spring time, mild and glorious spring,
When earth is like a paradise, and gay
With birds, and buds, and flowers, and everything,
Whose beauties serve to gild awhile life’s clay.
Bidding hearts revel in enjoyment wild,
Making one happy even as a child.
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