A SONG OF SPRING
Hark, the spring! She calls
With a thousand voices
’Mid the echoing forest halls
One great heart rejoices.
Hills, where young lambs bound,
Whiten o’er with daisies;
Flag flowers light the lower ground,
Where the old steer grazes.
Meadows laugh, flower-gay;
Every breeze that passes
Waves the seed-cloud’s gleaming gray
O’er the greener grasses.
O thou spring! be strong,
Exquisite newcomer!
And the onset baffle long
Of advancing summer!
—Aubrey de Vere.