A SUMMER WOOING A SONG

Up and away!—up, up, and away! The hedgerows are foaming with blossom to-day; Its bonfires the golden gorse lights on the hill, And the wanton wind’s wooing wherever it will. Up and away!—up, up, and away! The cuckoo’s name rings through the woodlands to-day; The warm blood of Summer runs rioting through The veins of each leaflet—then why not of you? Up and away!—up, up, and away! There’s Passion and Poetry stirring to-day. Half blinded with rapture, the heavy bees dart From the lily’s white breast to the rose’s red heart. Up and away!—up, up, and away! The old world’s begun a fresh courting to-day. I wooed you all winter, but found you as cold As the snowdrift that gleamed on the ridge of the wold. Up and away!—up, up, and away! Your eyes tell me “Yes,” though your lips say me “Nay.” The tears, so long frost-bound, are ready to flow, And she melts in my arms, my proud maiden of snow!