POETRY.
TO SPRING.
THOU art coming, joyous Spring! With the sunshine for thy dower, And the love of leaf and flower, And the swallow on the wing, Hark, how the thrushes sing ! Thou art coming in thy mirth, To give rapture to the earth, And cheerful thoughts to me ; Thou art coming in thy glee, And the chestnut-buds will burst, For the blossom-time athirst, And for Thee.
Thou art coming, thou art nigh, Young as in primeval years, Blushing amidst smiles and tears, With a laugh and with a sigh, Fair as in days gone by,— Abl the bliss that once was mine, When this life was half-divine, While in innocency strong Loving beauty, hating wrong, And, with wine of April gay, Joyously I welcomed May With a song !
Thou art coming on the way !
And the primrose's sweet face Thine advent-hour will grace, And the boys and girls will play As in the olden day,
When my limbs could join the race,—
But the years grow dark apace With shadows of the night : Yet I feel thy youthful might, And catch the quickening sound Of thy footsteps on the ground With delight. JOHN DENNIS.
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