Janet Hamilton

Spring

Fairy Spring, in kirtle green,
Stealing through the woods, is seen
Gliding o'er the freshening meadow
Bright with sunshine, dim with shadow,
Smiling on the lambkins skipping-
Children through the green lanes tripping.
High o'er head, on quivering wings,
The lark his jubilant anthem sings,
And thousand swelling feather'd throats
Are warbling clear their amorous notes.
Now with gentle hand she raises
From the sod her infant daisies,
Bids her sleeping violets rise,
Kissing fond their dewy eyes;
Scented buds of golden yellow,
Honey sweet adorn the willow,
And the drooping hyacinth bells
Tint with heaven's own blue the dells,
Where the primrose lurks below
Snowy sheets of blossomed sloe.
Treading slow the bramble brake,
Curled and coiled like sleeping snake,
The curious botanist discerns
The dark brown youngling's of the ferns;
From flowers of 'Araba,' the blest,
Ne'er were sweeter odours pressed
Than budding birch and sweetbriar shed
On thy radiant youthful head.
Virgin Spring! then come again;
We hail thine advent, bless thy reign;
Come with airs soft, genial, calm,
Shedding flowers and breathing balm:
May human labour, human love,
And gentle peace thy reign approve.