Classic Poem

A longing for the Spring,
Amidst the deepening snows;
To hear again the sweet birds sing,
My spirit often knows.

For freedom and the joy
That fill its happy hours;
When pleasant thoughts the mind employ,
And pleasant sights are ours.

I see the pastures green,
Where I am wont to stray;
Where flowers of every hue are seen
To bloom along my way.

I follow on the brook,
That prattles down the vale;
And tells, to many a leafy nook,
Its short and gladsome tale.

The flower-crowned hill I see,
Thick swamp and shady grove;
And welcome hear from bush and tree,
Where'er my footsteps rove.

These haunt my memory still,
With pictures of the past;
And longings for the spring-time fill
My soul at every blast.