’TIS SPRING *

         ’Tis Spring —the balmy season comes
              When flowerets deck the verdant ground,
         When Flora waves her gaudy plumes,
              And strews her sweet perfume around.

         Her locks are steep’d in liquid pearl, —

              The morning tears Aurora shed;
         Her couch is moist with fragrant dews,
              And incense breathes around her bed.

         Bright Sol, the glorious King of Day,
              While mounting up the azure plain,

         Salutes her with her mildest ray,
              And smiles upon her fairy train.

         The western breezes kiss the ground
              Where’er her rosy feet have trod,
         Inhale its balmy streams, and drink

              Life’s fresh elixir from the sod.

         She holds her courts in gayest meads —
              Sweet innocence alone is there;
         Her rosy train is all delight;
              Her handmaids blushing, blooming, fair.

         Fain would I clasp her fairy form;
              Fain would I kiss her cherub lip;
         Imbibe the rills of life from thence,
              And health from the pure fountain sip.

* This poem appeared in The Canadian Review and Literary and Historical Journal (Montreal), III, (March, 1825), 145. [back]