The plum-trees wore their bridal dress,
The willows donned their plumes,
And to the zephyr's fond caress
Gave forth their rare perfumes.
Through months of wintry frost and storm—
Yet never harmed by them—
A million germs had nestled warm,
Close to the parent stem.
The happy spring-time broke their rest,
They drank the morning dew,
They clasped the sunbeams to their breast,
And clothed the trees anew.
The clouds distilled the fertile rain
And sent it forth in showers;
The sunlight danced along the plain
And painted it with flowers.
The butterfly went forth to play,
The useful honey bee
Kept up a hunt through all the day.
Of cheerful industry.
The squirrel gamboled in the grove,
The rabbit bounded by,
The wary spider spun and wove,
And trapped the careless fly.
From out the joyous, vocal wood
The song of warblers came:
The cuckoo, in a merry mood,
Told and re-told its name.
And when behind the purple hill
The sun went out of sight,
The frogs began with hearty will
Their concert for the night.
Such scenes had made, in brighter years,
My heart with transport leap,
But now they touched the spring of tears,—
I sobbed aloud in sleep.
And is there not some balm, I cried,
'Mid nature's boundless wealth?
"Behold"—a gentle voice replied—
"Behold the Fount of health!"