And straight a nodding flower makes signs,
“Come!—come!”
O Spring, let me alone! O bird, bloom, beam,
“I have no time to dream!” I cry;
The echo breathes a soft, long sigh,
“Dream!—dream!”
The beautiful lyric,
“Ah, worshipped one, ah, faithful Spring!”
tempers this blitheness to a pensive strain, though only as one may introduce a note of minor in a staccato melody. In another bit of verse celebrating the renewing year, and noting how joy lays his finger on one’s lips and makes him mute, occur these delicate lines:
Thrice happy, oh, thrice happy still the Earth