spring.
45
Whilst genuine bursts of infant praise to perfume and to hue,
Gush ever as the tiny hand holds some bright flower to view.
They pause—they leap—they run—they laugh—so strangely wild their mirth;
They hear the lark, and, rapture plumed, might with him spring from earth;
They feel the pulse which nature stirs, though all ununderstood,
Unworded praise their bosoms swell to nature's Great and Good,
Home with their beauty and perfume across the meads they skip,
A mother meets them at the door, her kiss is on each lip;
Gush ever as the tiny hand holds some bright flower to view.
They pause—they leap—they run—they laugh—so strangely wild their mirth;
They hear the lark, and, rapture plumed, might with him spring from earth;
They feel the pulse which nature stirs, though all ununderstood,
Unworded praise their bosoms swell to nature's Great and Good,
Home with their beauty and perfume across the meads they skip,
A mother meets them at the door, her kiss is on each lip;
Brother and sister upward turn each little joylit face,
And share without one jealous pang that mother's fond embrace.
Oh! infancy, how clear thy streams, how dewy fresh thy flowers,
How thornless to each careless tread thy gladsome, guileless bowers!
What pure affections, perfect 'trust, the heart's soft tendrils move,
With ivy clasp to circle all in that bright sphere of love!
And share without one jealous pang that mother's fond embrace.
Oh! infancy, how clear thy streams, how dewy fresh thy flowers,
How thornless to each careless tread thy gladsome, guileless bowers!
What pure affections, perfect 'trust, the heart's soft tendrils move,
With ivy clasp to circle all in that bright sphere of love!
