A SPRING SONG.

Dark sod pierced by flames of flowers,

Dead wood freshly quickening,

Bright skies dusked with sudden showers,

Lit by rainbows on the wing.

Cuckoo calls and young lambs’ bleating

Nimble airs which coyly bring

Little gusts of tender greeting

From shy nooks where violets cling.

Half-fledged buds and birds and vernal

Fields of grass dew-glistening;

Evanescent life's eternal

Resurrection, bridal Spring!