THE POETRY OF SPRING. SPRING. I COME! I come! ye have called me long- I have breathed on the South, and (the chestnutflowers By thousands have burst from the forest-bowers, But it is not for me, in my hour of bloom, (19) I have looked on the hills of the stormy North, And the reindeer bounds o'er the pastures free, And the moss looks bright where my foot hath been. I have sent through the wood-paths a glowing sigh, And called out each voice of the deep blue sky; From the night bird's lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-branch into verdure breaks. From the streams and founts I have loosed the chain; They are sweeping on to the silvery main, They are flashing down from the mountain brows, Come forth, O ye children of gladness! come! Ye of the rose-lip and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly! With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine-I may not stay. Away from the dwellings of care-worn men, But ye!-ye are changed since ye met me last! There is something bright from your features passed! There is that come over your brow and eye Which speaks of a world where the flowers must die! -Ye smile! but your smile hath a dimness yet: Ye are changed, ye are changed!-and I see not here All whom I saw in the vanished year! There were graceful heads, with their ringlets bright, Which tossed in the breeze with a play of light; There were steps that flew o'er the cowslip's head, As if for a banquet all earth was spread; There were voices that rang through the sapphire sky, And had not a sound of mortality! Are they gone? is their mirth from the mountains passed? —Ye have looked on Death since ye met me last. I know whence the shadow comes o'er you now— They are gone from amongst you, the fair, young and Ye have lost the gleam of their shining hair! |