The look which she gave them at parting left there
The blue of her eyes, and the scent of her hair.
With his wings filled with music, the bee is abroad,
He seeks the wild thyme-beds of which he is lord.
The lark starts from slumber, and up-soaring flings
The night-tears the clover had shed on his wings.
The chirp of the grasshopper gladdens the field,
For all things their mirth or their melody yield.
The glory of spring, and the glory of morn,
O'er all the wide world in their beauty are borne;
For the winter is gone to the snows of the north,
And the promise of summer in green leaves looks forth.
The red rose has summoned her sisters from rest,
And earth with the sight of the lovely is blest.
I too will go forth, I too will renew
My bloom and my spirits in sunshine and dew.
I hear the birds singing, and feel that their song
Bears my own heart that shareth their gladness along.
Ah, let me away with the earliest hours,
To gather the may-dew that lies in the flowers.
