Spring

Hark! the Hours are softly calling,Bidding Spring arise,To listen to the raindrops fallingFrom the cloudy skies,To listen to Earth's weary voices,Louder every day,Bidding her no longer lingerOn her charmed way;But hasten to her task of beautyScarcely yet begun;By the first bright day of summerIt should all be done.She has yet to loose the fountainFrom its iron chain;And to make the barren mountainGreen and bright again;She must clear the snow that lingersRound the stalks awayAnd let the snowdrop's trembling whitenessSee the light of day.She must watch, and warm, and cherishEvery blade of green;Till the tender grass appearingFrom the earth is seen;She must bring the golden crocusFrom her hidden store;She must spread broad showers of daisiesEach day more and more.In each hedgerow she must hastenCowslips sweet to set;Primroses in rich profusion,With bright dewdrops wet,And under every leaf, in shadowHide a Violet!Every tree within the forestMust be decked anewAnd the tender buds of promiseShould be peeping through,Folded deep, and almost hidden,Leaf by leaf beside,What will make the Summer's glory,And the Autumn's pride.She must weave the loveliest carpets,Chequered sun and shade,Every wood must have such pathwaysLaid in every glade;She must hang laburnum branchesOn each arched bough;--And the white and purple lilacShould be waving now;She must breathe, and cold winds vanishAt her breath away;And then load the air around herWith the scent of May!Listen then, Oh Spring! nor lingerOn thy charmed way;Have pity on thy prisoned flowersWearying for the day.Listen to the raindrops fallingFrom the cloudy skies;Listen to the hours callingBidding thee arise.