Classic Poem

A deeper azure where the clouds are flying
Along the upper sky,
A softer shadow where the leaves are lying
Our forest pathway by,
A sweeter murmur in the south winds sighing,
Tell us the spring is nigh.

The bluebird flits, and coos the ring-dove tender
Amid the young green leaves;
Mansions of mist and silver, white and slender,
The shy wood-spider weaves;
Swingeth the swallow to his old home under
The unforgotten eaves.

Its bridal wreathes, with starry gems of yellow,
The jasmine's stores unfold,
Adown the tresses of the trembling willow
Dropping its bells of gold;
Fit tracery to deck the perfumed pillow,
Where Love's young dreams are told.

A thousand forms, like frolic children hiding,
Challenge the laughing showers,
Watching the flight of pearly clouds and chiding
The treasure-laden hours;
A thousand forms of untold beauty biding
Amid the unborn flowers.

A thousand forms, and not in nature only,
The warm spring showers unfold,
Another mission, pure and calm and holy,
The voice of spring has told,
Waking some joy in souls long sad and lonely,
Some hope in hearts long cold.

Some light from sunlight may our sadness borrow,
Some strength from bright young wings,
Some hope from brightening seasons, when each morrow
A lovelier verdure brings;
Some softened shadow of remembered sorrow
From the calm depths of springs.

Blend thy blest visions with the sleep that cumbers
The dull, cold earth so long;
Bring bloom and fragrance to the flowret's slumbers,
And bid our hearts be strong;
Breathe thine own music through our spirit's numbers,
Season of light and song.