17
The towering hop-elm, in blossom early, With clusters of true lovers-knots is decked,In orchard and woodland the catkin curly, With tender grace hangs o'er its bride elect.
The speedwell, blue as the bluest heaven, Looks smilingly upward to that fair dome;The young lambs are playing from sunrise till even, The time of the singing of birds is come.
The brave thrush greets us at early morning, And cheerily carols the whole day long;And hope in oft-troubled lives newly dawning, Responsively echoes that clear, sweet song.
The lark her musical way is winging Aloft in the heights of transparent air;And jubilant hearts are as blithely singing As high in an atmosphere pure and rare.
Oh lovely spring! Oh enchanting season! Thou bringest us pleasures so great, so free;We love thee with every sense and reason, And warm is the welcome we give to thee.
Yet not unchequered shall be thy story, The dreaded north-easter shall still delayThe rapid advance of thy reign of glory, But ah! its coming no power can stay.
It shall not fail us while earth remaineth, A Father's good promise hath made it sure;Omnipotent blessing all life maintaineth, And we to the end may in hope endure.
For just as surely a glad fulfilling Of many a promise each day shall bring;And even through death are our hearts still thrilling With quickening hope of a deathless spring.
