Come out! It's Spring!
The elm-trees! See! They're blossoming!
All crimson-painted. Here's a flower
Come open! Now with ev'ry hour
There'll be fresh pollen for that bee —
Oho! No longer sleepy, he!

What song! What song
Those greening hedges breaks along!
God! There's performed in everything
A miracle of throat and wing.
Needs but a swallow to flit by
And print its pattern on the sky.

Oh! Smell this air!
The wind it wanders; everywhere
It plucks a scent. Ah! Exquisite
The ache of Spring that comes with it!
And whence it comes, or where it goes,
The troubling wind of Spring — who knows?

All now is still!
The sunlight's level on the hill.
There goes a furry groundling. Run!
You Spring-created rascal, run!
And — hark! The blackbird's evening shout —
" The Spring! The Spring! Come out! Come out! "
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