Poems (Blind)/Echoes of Spring/VIII.

by Mathilde Blind

VIII.

The blooming hedge, the budding grove,Resound with notes of joy and love ;The gleaming bush, the glimm'ring tree,Live with a dewy melody.

Along the meadows, flashing bright,Run trills of shrill and sweet delight;E'en the small snowy clouds among,Gush showers on showers of silver song.

But thou, my heart, oh, tell me whyHast thou no language but a sigh?