Spring odors load the balmy breeze
That stirs my garden's budding screen;
The robin's note is heard; the trees
Are clothed in mid-May's tender green.
From tree to tree in frolic frisk
I see the nimble squirrels pass;
The dandelion's golden disk
Is gleaming in the emerald grass.
Along the woodland paths I stray,
And feel the life that upward thrills
In flowery forms that seek the day,
Fed by the late imprisoned rills.
All things are joyous, and my heart
Lives o'er again that happy day
When, hand in hand, we stood apart
From all the world, and life was May!