To greet the triumph of the youthful Spring.
Lo! where she comes! ’scaped from the icy lair
Of hoary Winter; wanton free and fair!
Now smile the heavens again upon the earth,
Bright hill and bosky dell resound with mirth,
And voices full of laughter and wild glee
Shout through the air, pregnant with harmony,
And wake poor sobbing Echo, who replies
With sleeping voice that softly, slowly dies.