The Grey Brethren(11)

Spring

    HARK how the merry daffodils, Fling golden music to the hills！ And how the hills send echoing down, Through wind-swept turf and moorland brown, The murmurs of a thousand rills That mock the song-birds' liquid trills！ The hedge released from Winter's frown Shews jewelled branch and willow crown； While all the earth with pleasure trills, And 'dances with the daffodils.'

    Out, out, ye flowers！ Up and shout！ Staid Winter's passed and Spring's about To lead your ranks in joyous rout； To string the hawthorn's milky pearls, And gild the grass with celandine； To dress the catkins' tasselled curls, To twist the tendrils of the vine. She wakes the windflower from her sleep, And lights the woods with April's moon； The violets lift their heads to peep, The daisies brave the sun at noon.

    The gentle wind from out the west Toys with the lilac pretty maids； Ruffles the meadow's verdant-vest, And rings the bluebells in the glades； The ash-buds change their sombre suit, The orchards blossom white and red - Promise of Autumn's riper fruit, When Spring's voluptuousness has fled. Awake！ awake, O throstle sweet！ And haste with all your choir to greet This Queen who comes with wakening feet.

    Persephone with grateful eyes Salutes the Sun - 'tis Paradise： Then hastens down the dewy meads, Past where the herd contented feeds, Past where the furrows hide the grain, For harvesting of sun and rain； To where Demeter patient stands With longing lips and outstretched hands, Until the dawning of one face Across the void of time and space Shall bring again her day of grace. Rejoice, O Earth！ Rejoice and sing！ This is the promise of the Spring, And this the world's remembering.