Littell's Living Age/Volume 129/Issue 1670/Spring Song

For works with similar titles, see Spring Song.


A baby joy is awake in my heart,
And flutters her wings in song;
For now the wintry winds depart,
And summer days are long.

The woods that late were cold and bare,
With jocund babble ring;
Slides on still fans adown the air
A bird too glad to sing.

O buoyant air! O joyous air!
You thrill the weary throng,
As rhythmical with music rare,
And filled with sunlight everywhere,
You touch our lips with song.

Blackwood's Magazine.