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ODE TO SPRING.
Sweet daughter of a rough and stormy sire,
Hoar Winter's blooming child; delightful Spring!
Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crowned;
From the green islands of eternal youth,—
Crowned with fresh blooms and ever springing shade,—
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou, whose powerful voice
More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed,
Or Lydian flute, can soothe the madding winds,—
And through the stormy deep
Breathe thine own tender calm.
