The first red-robin lover.
A mock spring laughs in mocking skies,
(O little buds, be wary!)
And masking in sweet April’s guise
The youthful year makes merry.
MORNING ON THE MOUNTAIN
Upon the gray crags, steep and sheer,
The columbines’ gold tassels swing,
And wind-flowers cling,
Where, lightly poised, the mountain deer