Classic Poem

How shall I find the words of perfect praise,
To give you back the gladness and the mirth,
With which you filled my hands, the lyric days
Your gracious bounty gave me in my dearth?
My song fails on the wing, and yet I know
The meaning of Spring's living ecstasy,
The laughing prophecy the March winds blow
Among the buds, and through the heart of me.

I know, I know the rose and silver dress,
Wherewith God clothed that clear and virginal morn,
Which came to you in joyful gentleness,
The hour of shy delight when you were born.
I know the innocence and sweet surprise,
The waiting earth made ready for your eyes.