“THE WILLOW BOUGHS ARE YELLOW NOW.”

The willow boughs are yellow now,

For spring has come again;

The peach-tree buds begin to swell,

Dripping with April rain.

The gray-eyed twilight lingers long,

To meet the starry night;

I walk the darkening lanes alone,

And love the sombre light.

The dream of other days returns,

When comes the blossomed spring;

But when the full leaved summer comes

My dream has taken wing;

The twittering swallows in the lane

Were there a year ago;

The old nests in the tangled vines

Their next year's brood will know.

A little brood of children fair,

Under the mother's wing,

Is in the dream of other days,

That flies when flies the spring!