The budding promise of recurrent Spring
Has filled my heart with all its primal fire,
And, like a flight of birds upon the wing,
It soars celestial with the wild desire
For all that was, when Youth and Love were young —
Ere Pain articulate had found a tongue.

There is a fragrance in the April air
That breathes of Resurrection; and the blue
Compelling canopy that arches fair
Above our heads, would bid us to renew
Our childhood's faith in Heaven's sapphire gate,
And once again our souls rededicate.

What if the holy fires of youth are shaken,
And burned to dust before Life's common waste, —
One touch of Spring and all our veins awaken
And crave once more the lost delights to taste; —
Undying, and reborn, dim memories stir
The old, sweet pregnancy of days that were!