Spring

There are promise and pleasure and hope in the spring,

That beckon and reckon the future, I know.

The bud and the bee, swaying low on the lea;

The dove coming late to his nesting mate.

In a dream of ecstasy.

There are laughter and magic and joy in the spring,

That capture, enrapture my heart, I know.

A lilt on the breeze, that is toss'd by the trees,

Which doth for me weave like a thrush at eve

A song of ecstasy.

Ah! There are madness and gladness and nothing of sadness.

That will me and thrill me and fill me, I know.

Life and its weal are to give and to feel

The soul that can ache, the heart that can break

With a pain of ecstasy.