In Spring-Time

SWEET, sing a song of the May to me,
Sweeten the lingering hours!
Soft comes her whisper each day to me,
See, thro' the green and the gray, to me;

Thrills the faint flame of the flowers.
For the spell of the winter is ended,
The rainbow is seen thro' the showers,
And the May, by fair spirits attended,

Shall smile up the skies, and be ours. . .
Afar away yonder her foot cometh slow to us —
She steals up the south, with her cheeks all aglow, to us!
The blue waters tremble! the rain singeth low to us!

Green stir the blossoming bowers!