And let soft arms be round them flung,
Keep them from blight, from weather stress!
White lambs upon the green-lit sward,
And dappled darlings of the kine—
O Spring, have them in watch and ward
And mother them—for all are thine.
There are so many, many young!
Thine, too, the wild mouse and her brood
Within a last year’s bird’s-nest swung—
And all shy litters of the wood!