SPRING.
Come to the woods, O Spring!
Touch the gray silence, smite the winter's gloom,
Till the dim aisles grow bright with sudden bloom
And the fair arches ring.
Touch the gray silence, smite the winter's gloom,
Till the dim aisles grow bright with sudden bloom
And the fair arches ring.
Come! we have waited long;
And in the balmy fragrance of thy mouth
Bring us God's message from the sunny South;
Waken the wild bird's song.
And in the balmy fragrance of thy mouth
Bring us God's message from the sunny South;
Waken the wild bird's song.
Over the meadows pass,
Flinging the wealth of May buds, faintly sweet,
In shining garlands round the children's feet
Amid the springing grass.
Flinging the wealth of May buds, faintly sweet,
In shining garlands round the children's feet
Amid the springing grass.
But not to earth alone:
Some things beside have need of quick'ning breath,
Some things beside have known the hand of death,
And heard the winter's moan.
Some things beside have need of quick'ning breath,
Some things beside have known the hand of death,
And heard the winter's moan.
