Classic Poem

Come , thou dainty, joyous Spring,
Spread, O spread thy swallow wing,
Wheel and waver, weave thy flight!
Frolic farewell bid this night
To the land which would thee hold
Bound in summer's sultry gold!

Come, thou Ariel of the year,
I would cleave a maple here;
In the cleft, sweet cheater, close
Daintily thy breast of rose:
In its honeyed wood, wild Spring,
Catch and keep thy wayward wing.
Thou shouldst suck like any bee
Sugar from the sappy tree.
Potent, thou, as Prospero;
At thy lute green leaves shall glow,
And the tall trees hide their plinths
Deep in grass and hyacinths.

South, swing wide thy sapphire gate!
Come, Spring-Ariel delicate,
Play thy lute along the strands,
Then shall bend the willow wands.
As men followed Ariel
With his shell invisible,
Flowers shall frolic after thee,
Bursting from the barren lea;
Softer stars steal up and down
In thy train by field and town —
Nay, the sun for thee shall dance
Like a courtier of old France.

Come, Spring-Spirit, quit thy quips!
At the laughing of thy lips,
Shakespeare, leaning from his sphere,
Draws thy music to his ear:
Leaves the ambrosial daffodils,
Temples on supernal hills;
Wanders down by sunset bars,
Hears the rush of Avon's strain,
And loves the earth he lit again.

The poet thrills! On Spring's sweet blast
He feels the mighty soul glide past:
Its mantle sweeps him like a wing,
And this is why he needs must sing —
The gentle poet of the Spring!