IS IT Spring again in Ohio?
Is the sleep of the Winter over?
Far in the heavens, the bluebird,
Low in the marshland, the plover,
Anear, in the orchard, the redbreast,—
Wherever one looks, the hover
Of wings—wherever one listens,
The note of the homing rover!
Is it Spring again in Ohio?

Is it Spring again in Ohio,
And the sleep of the Winter over?
Blooms in the woods the wild service?
Where Zephyr bendeth above her,
Gleams the faint dawn of the wind-flower?
Breaks from the turfy cover
The tender star of the thistle,—
The dew-cradling leaf of the clover?
Is it Spring again in Ohio?

Is it Spring again in Ohio,
And the sleep of the Winter over?
Are these the rare days—O my comrade—
Blithest for homing rover?
Once would we forth and follow
Far as the cry of the plover—
By stream, and by greening pasture,
By fallow and breezy cover!
Is it Spring again in Ohio?

Is it Spring again in Ohio—
Is the sleep of the Winter over?
Say to each wakening beauty,
I am, as ever, its lover,
Hourly, from far, saluting:
I, too, were a homing rover,
If I, from the sleep of the Winter,
All that I loved might recover!
Is it Spring again in Ohio?