I come, I come! ye have called me long;
I come o’er the mountains with light and song;
Ye may trace my step o’er the wakening earth,
By the winds which tell of the violet’s birth,
By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass,
By the green leaves opening as I pass.
—Spring. Hemans.
Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and joyful Jollity,
Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,