Early Spring

O, follow, leaping blood,

The season's lure!

O heart, look down and up,

Serene, secure,

Warm as the crocus cup,

Like snow-drops, pure!

Past, Future glimpse and fade

Through some slight spell,

A gleam from yonder vale,

Some far blue fell;

And sympathies, how frail,

In sound and smell!

Till at thy chuckled note,

Thou twinkling bird,

The fairy fancies range,

And, lightly stirred,

Ring little bells of change

From word to word.

For now the Heavenly Power

Makes all things new,

And thaws the cold, and fills

The flower with dew;

The blackbirds have their wills,

The poets too.