43
TO M. V. C.
43
TO M. V. C.
[MAY 13, 1872.]
Spring odors load the balmy breeze That stirs my garden's budding screen;The robin's note is heard; the trees Are clothed in mid-May's tender green.
From tree to tree in frolic frisk I see the nimble squirrels pass;The dandelion's golden disk Is gleaming in the emerald grass.
Along the woodland paths I stray, And feel the life that upward thrillsIn flowery forms that seek the day, Fed by the late imprisoned rills.
All things are joyous, and my heart Lives o'er again that happy dayWhen, hand in hand, we stood apart From all the world, and life was May!
