AH yes! the hours, in verdure dress’d,
Dance lightly on the plain;
And, peeping from its mossy nest,
Glad April sees his fragrant guest,
The violet, born again:
In ev’ry hedge-row, brake, and dell,
Some “bonny gem” is springing;
And, wak’d by Nature’s kindly spell,
Upsoaring from the russet fell,
The new-fledg’d lark is singing
O Spring! thy breath comes o’er the hill,
The vital spark renewing;
And whose the heart so stern and chill,
As not to own thy genial thrill,
And soften at thy wooing?
With Hope’s fond smile, and Memory’s sigh,
Mine welcomes thy returning;
Yet, gentle Spring, methinks mine eye
Was wont to view thy sapphire sky
With brighter glories burning!
Methinks, that once the vernal hours
Came sparkling o’er the scene,
And spread the meads, and deck’d the bow’rs
With softer dews, and gaudier flow’rs,
And robes of livelier green:
Then ev’ry breeze of life and love
Some blissful message brought;
But now, fair Spring, o’er hill and grove
Thy lagging pinions seem to move
With fainter raptures fraught!
Say, faded is thy emerald vest,
Thy wreath of varied hue;
And hast thou shaken from thy crest
The orient pomp it erst possest,
Its pearls of morning dew?
No! still thou keep’st thy wonted place
Amid the annual train,
And still, with soft relenting grace,
Thou dost the rigid bands unbrace
Of Winter’s sullen reign.
Then why, with Springs long past away,
Does Memory haunt my bosom?
They bloom’d when life was green and gay,
When all my circling year was May,
And Hope was full in blossom;
When thoughts burst rapid in my breast,
Like buds in April showers,
As vivid as thy vernal vest,
As gentle as thy whisp’ring west,
As varied as thy flowers;
As wild and artless as thy lay,
Just wak’d in yonder grove;
As kindly as thy genial ray,
Which calls the smiling world to pay
Its willing meed of love.
Yes! still, fair Spring, the same art thou,
Though sanguine youth is flown,
Who us’d to aid the garden’s glow,
And o’er thy brightest landscape throw
New glories of his own:
Yet, while with chasten’d extacy
Thy lovely scenes I greet;
Still is the tear through which mine eye,
Uplifted, hails thy genial sky,
Though mournful, passing sweet!
(Margaret Holford)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Life Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Youth Poems, Fairness Poems, Flowers Poems, Hope Poems, Smiling Poems, Spring Poems, Morning Poems, Winter PoemsBased on Keywords: hedge-row, extacy, upsoaring, gaudier, new-fledg