Now is the time of year...

Now is the time of year

When all the flutes begin,—

The redwing bold and clear,

The rainbird far and thin.

In all the waking lands

There's not a wilding thing

But knows and understands

The burden of the spring.

Now every voice alive

By rocky wood and stream

Is lifted to revive

The ecstasy, the dream.

For Nature, never old,

But busy as of yore,

From sun and rain and mould

Is making spring once more.

She sounds her magic note

By river-marge and hill,

And every woodland throat

Re-echoes with a thrill.

O mother of our days,

Hearing thy music call.

Teach us to know thy ways

And fear no more at all!