A SONG OF SPRING.

O the sweet spring days when the grasses grow. And the violets blow, And the lads and the lassies a-maying go! When the mosses cling in their velvet sheen, Like a fringe of green, To the rocks that o'er the deep pools lean; When the brooks wake up with a merry leap From their winter sleep, And the frogs in the meadows begin to peep; When the robin sings, thro' the long bright hours, Of his southern bowers, With a dream in his heart of the coming flowers; When the earth is full of delicious smells From the ferny dells, And the scent of the breeze quite plainly tells He has been with the apple-blooms! They fly From his kisses sly Like feathery snow-flakes scurrying by! O the saucy pranks of the madcap breeze In the blossoming trees! O the sounds that thrill, and the sights that please, And the nameless joys that the May days bring On their glad, glad wing! O the dear delights of the sweet, sweet spring!