The Spring's in the air—
Here, there,
Everywhere!
Though there's scarce a green tip to a bud,
Spring laughs over hill and plain,
As the sunlight turns the lane's mud
To a splendour of copper one way, of silver the other;
And longings one cannot smother,
And delight that sings through the brain,
Turn all one's life into glory—
'Tis the old new ravishing story—
The Spring's here again!
When the leaves grew red
And dead,
We said:
"See how much more fair
Than the green leaves shimmering
Are the mists and the tints of decay!"
In the dainty dreamings that lighted the gray November,
Did our hearts not remember
The green woods—and linnets that sing?
Ah, we knew Spring was lost, and pretended
'Twas Autumn we loved. Lies are ended;
Thank God for the Spring!