Season of sighs perfumed, and maiden flowers,
Young Beauty's birthday, cradled in delight
And kept by muses in the blushing bowers
Where snow-drops spring most delicately white!
Oh it is luxury to minds that feel
Now to prove truants to the giddy world,
Calmly to watch the dewy tints that steal
O'er opening roses—'till in smiles unfurled
Their fresh-made petals silently unfold.
Or mark the springing grass—or gaze upon