The buds from winter's frost-work lift
Their dainty heads; a golden rift
Of sunshine from the misty space
Of Cloudland comes apace.

And we are sealed in dreams to-day.
Look! fair Spring beckons! wherefore stay?
Deep in the forest's mystery,
Strange visions we would see.

The young bird twitters on his nest;
His tender notes so long represt,
Soar to the ether, clear and calm,
A pure, exultant psalm.

The youth charmed by the whisp'ring leaves,
Tells life's sweet secret 'neath the eaves,
And finds more fair than sunset skies
The Springtime in her eyes.

What colors deck the woodland shade!
What airy pencilings! the glade
Is rich with lily-bells whose glow
Seems borrowed from the snow.

She comes fair Spring, with rhythmic pace!
Say, have you looked her in the face?
Her glance is ecstasy, her smile
All sorrow can beguile.

In reveries almost divine,
What visions bright before us shine!
Lo! erst we yearned: we see fulfilled
The fantasies we willed.

She comes our chant of praise to hear,
Sweet, airy Spring, and lingers near;
Without her dreams, her nameless hope,
How sadly would we grope!

We raise our heads, our hearts elate
Meanwhile, and fit to toy with fate.
How can life's changes e'er distress
While clasped in Spring's caress.