SPRING.
Ah! who art thou, fair maid, with upland flowers
Twined in the glossy silk of golden hair,
With smile sunbright, with eyes the dove in hue,
With raylike raiment spun from upper air?
Who gifted thee with deep mysterious power
To heal the aching heart of human woe?
At thy approach delights that long lay dead
Revive, and once again with glad life glow.
To honour thee a hymn doth Nature raise;