Spring blows her fruitful breath, and swiftly curls
Her vaporous blessing over hill and lea;
With naked arms the fair magnolia tree
Her silver cups in Bacchic frenzy whirls.
White violets glimmer in the grass like pearls,
Primroses nod; and on the roaring sea
Of the strong wind, the willow whips and twirls
Its leafing slivers to the robin’s glee.
Prolific season, while thy changes bring
Fresh life and music to the mellow land,
Am I alone untouched by thy command?
When shall my winter soften into Spring?
What joy for me is lingering in thy hand?
When shall my barren prospect bloom and sing?
(George Henry Boker)
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