Of hours that each its task fulfills,
Heart-healing Spring resumes her place,
The valley throngs and scales the hills
2. In vain. From earth’s deep heart o’ercharged
The exulting life runs o’er in flowers;
The slave unfed is unenlarged:
In darkness sleep a Nation’s powers.
3. Who knows not Spring? Who doubts, when blows
Her breath, that Spring is come indeed?
The swallow doubts not; nor the rose