The spring-time is waking to beauty and bloom,
The storm-clouds are breaking, and bright through the gloom
The blue heaven flashes like gleams of thine eye,
Through the dark silken lashes, which deepen its dye,
’Tis a glance full of tenderness, blended with pride,
Like thine own azure eye-beam, my sweet sister Lide!
The rose-buds are sleeping—but odors around
Tell of hyacinths peeping from yon grassy mound;
And the peach-bloom is blushing like cloudlets at even,
When the sunset is flushing the calm summer heaven,