Songs of Springtime
1. Spring's Approach.
O breeze so soft, so dear!
Soon, soon thou wilt bring
Sweet songs of the spring,
And the violet-buds will peer.
2. Faith strengthened by Spring.
Awakened are the breezes light,
They blow and rustle day and night,
Fresh life and strength they give;
O perfume fresh, O voices glad!
No more, poor heart, be dull and sad;
Now all shall change, and live!
The world grows lovelier day by day,
We know not what 'twill next display,
New buds each hour doth give;
Now blooms the gloomiest, deepest dale,
Be calm, poor heart, forget thy bale,
Now all shall change, and live!
3. Spring-repose.
Lay me not in the grave's deep gloom,
Let not the turf my corse entomb;
For buried soon I hope to lie
'Mid waving grasses, close and high.
'Mid grass and flowers well-pleased I lie
And list some flute's low-warbling sigh,
And watch above me, changing fast,
The radiant clouds of spring fly past.
4. Spring's Holyday.
Genial, golden, vernal day,
Waking thoughts delicious,
If I e'er could weave a lay,
Sure, to-day's propitious.
Wherefore, though, when nature's gay,
Need a task molest me?
Spring's a gladsome holyday,
Let me pray and rest me.
5. The Praise of Spring.
Cornfield's greenness, violet's sweetness,
Skylark's carol, ousel's lay,
Rains in sunshine, Zephyr's fleetness —
Whilst of these I gladly sing,
Lacks there yet some greater thing
Thee to praise, thou vernal day?
6. Spring's Consolation.
Why fear'st thou, heart, in days so fair,
When e'en the briers roses bear?
7. A future Spring.
Serene and gentle bloometh
The spring-time, year by year;
Have faith and wait: there cometh
A Spring more bright and clear.
For thee doth God ordain it,
When life's short journey's done;
On earth thou long'st to gain it,
In heav'n 'twill be begun.
8. Springtime: By a Critic.
' Tis the Spring, there's no denying:
'Twill be nice — 'tis scarce worth doubting —
Now at last to venture out in
Weather not too keen and trying.
Storks and swallows fast are coming,
None too early, none too early,
Bloom, my tree! and be not surly,
'Tis on my account you're blooming.
Spring, I hail thee somewhat gladly,
Yea! the skylark seems improving,
Philomel is almost moving,
E'en the sun shines none so badly!
May none guess my joy, to mock it,
Nor to see me strolling ponder:
Forth awhile I'll deign to wander,
" Thomson's Seasons " in my pocket.
O breeze so soft, so dear!
Soon, soon thou wilt bring
Sweet songs of the spring,
And the violet-buds will peer.
2. Faith strengthened by Spring.
Awakened are the breezes light,
They blow and rustle day and night,
Fresh life and strength they give;
O perfume fresh, O voices glad!
No more, poor heart, be dull and sad;
Now all shall change, and live!
The world grows lovelier day by day,
We know not what 'twill next display,
New buds each hour doth give;
Now blooms the gloomiest, deepest dale,
Be calm, poor heart, forget thy bale,
Now all shall change, and live!
3. Spring-repose.
Lay me not in the grave's deep gloom,
Let not the turf my corse entomb;
For buried soon I hope to lie
'Mid waving grasses, close and high.
'Mid grass and flowers well-pleased I lie
And list some flute's low-warbling sigh,
And watch above me, changing fast,
The radiant clouds of spring fly past.
4. Spring's Holyday.
Genial, golden, vernal day,
Waking thoughts delicious,
If I e'er could weave a lay,
Sure, to-day's propitious.
Wherefore, though, when nature's gay,
Need a task molest me?
Spring's a gladsome holyday,
Let me pray and rest me.
5. The Praise of Spring.
Cornfield's greenness, violet's sweetness,
Skylark's carol, ousel's lay,
Rains in sunshine, Zephyr's fleetness —
Whilst of these I gladly sing,
Lacks there yet some greater thing
Thee to praise, thou vernal day?
6. Spring's Consolation.
Why fear'st thou, heart, in days so fair,
When e'en the briers roses bear?
7. A future Spring.
Serene and gentle bloometh
The spring-time, year by year;
Have faith and wait: there cometh
A Spring more bright and clear.
For thee doth God ordain it,
When life's short journey's done;
On earth thou long'st to gain it,
In heav'n 'twill be begun.
8. Springtime: By a Critic.
' Tis the Spring, there's no denying:
'Twill be nice — 'tis scarce worth doubting —
Now at last to venture out in
Weather not too keen and trying.
Storks and swallows fast are coming,
None too early, none too early,
Bloom, my tree! and be not surly,
'Tis on my account you're blooming.
Spring, I hail thee somewhat gladly,
Yea! the skylark seems improving,
Philomel is almost moving,
E'en the sun shines none so badly!
May none guess my joy, to mock it,
Nor to see me strolling ponder:
Forth awhile I'll deign to wander,
" Thomson's Seasons " in my pocket.
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