Scatter a perfume of pollen dust,
That mounts to the kindling soul like must;
Where the turtles each spring their loves renew—
The old, old story, “coo-roo, coo-roo,”
Mingles with the wooing note
That bubbles from the song-bird’s throat;
Where on waves of rosy light at play,
Mingle a thousand airy minions,
And drifting as on a golden bay,
The butterfly with his petal pinions,