REJUVENATION

Are you the wondrous joy of Spring, Sent coursing through the woods, With chorals for the birds to sing, And colors for the buds? Or are you some supreme delight, Which morn set free with mirth, To carry gladness in your flight All o’er the meads of earth? What are you, Hebe, nymph or maid? You start Spring in my heart With blooms that time can never fade— Rejuvenating art. What witchery, like Spring, is this You hold o’er me, sweet one? You set me glowing with a kiss With warmth of summer sun. As winter thaws when spring comes in With claims to warmth and growth, So you from cold my soul doth win— Pour in it best of both. I rise from dreary hours and smile At sorrow when you call, And thrill with youthful yearnings while Your blisses on me fall. ’Tis magic! ’Tis the art of joy, Transforming way of Spring; Her methods, Hebe, you employ To make my young heart sing.