Technopaegnion XI. — On the Beginning of Spring

When the year at its uprising unlocks flower-bearing Spring, all things flourish: green is every grove, gay the gold-tressed field, and, soon to spread shade, up from its root shoots the sprout. No longer in thick shower streams to earth the billowing snow. The smell of flowers fills the air like that pride of Mount Libanus, the spice (incense). Now o'er the sea flits the loose-robed merchant Chink.