THE fresh spring burgeons into bloom--
And Earth with all her vernal charms
Lies like a queenly bride enclasped
Within her heavenly bridegroom's arms;
The storms that raved have sunk to peace;
Freed rivulets weave a blithesome lay,
And blissful Nature softly sings
Preludings of her perfect day!
Meanwhile there's not a breeze that thrills
Leaf, bud, and flower with genial kiss,--
Which does not breathe thy mystic hope,
Oh, soul of Palingenesis:--
Glance where we may, the symbols rise
Of loftier loves and lives to be:--
This marvellous spring-time seems to grasp
The skirts of immortality!
