Classic Poem

Born of the blushing Spring,
Lo, Joy replumes his angel-wing!
With radiant locks the Hours advance,
And violets wake from Winter's trance;
While Beauty smiles with sunny glance,
And birds ecstatic sing.

Against a sky serene
The quiet mountains seem to lean;
While valleys woo, with pure delight,
The genial sun, and dews of night;
And Hope, with buds of promise bright,
Embroiders all the scene.

The sunshine and the showers
Restore to Earth her bosom flowers, —
The queenly rose that's virgin-lipped,
The lily that in gold is dipped,
The honey-bell that's oftenest sipped,
And thyme that never towers.

And now, from mantled hill,
And cradled vale, and gushing rill,
There breathes a music sweet and long,
Which melts the soul like sacred song,
And purifies the heart that's wrong, —
The whisper small and still.

Oh! catch with listening ear
The vernal whispers of the year,
Whose breath, like hope, revives the heart,
And bids us act a nobler part,
Nor leave behind a faithless chart
When Autumn's leaf is sear.