What witchery, like Spring, is this
You hold o’er me, sweet one?
You set me glowing with a kiss
With warmth of summer sun.
As winter thaws when spring comes in
With claims to warmth and growth,
So you from cold my soul doth win—
Pour in it best of both.
I rise from dreary hours and smile
At sorrow when you call,
And thrill with youthful yearnings while
Your blisses on me fall.
’Tis magic! ’Tis the art of joy,
Transforming way of Spring;
Her methods, Hebe, you employ
To make my young heart sing.
A SONG
I love her for her tenderness,
Her sweet abiding grace,
Her gentle spirit’s loveliness,
Her earnest, winsome face!
I love her for her happy ways,
Her body’s wondrous bloom,
Her smiles which light the heavy days,
And straight dispel my gloom!
I love her for her honest speech—
Her constant soul’s delight—
Her honeyed lips the gods would teach
To kiss their loves aright!
I love her for she kept for me,
Those lips where perfect bliss
Awaits in reddening ecstasy
Her lover’s eager kiss!