Poems (Bradford)/The voice of spring

4530642Poems — The voice of springBernice Margaret Bradford
THE VOICE OF SPRING.
I am coming! I am coming!
Don't you hear the voice of spring?
Don't you hear the wild bees humming?
Don't you see the flowers I bring?

I am coming down the mountain
With my light and joyous feet;
I am hast'ning to the fountain
Where the winds and waters meet.

Don't you smell the breath of orchards
On the incense-laden breeze?
Don't you get the scent of honey
From the homeward going bees?

Don't you see the rivulets swirling
Down the distant mountain side?
Don't you see their foam-skirts whirling
Like a maiden's in her pride?

Don't you see the fresh growth swelling
On the twiglets of the pine?
And the bluebird pick his dwelling
In this forest haunt of mine?

Don't you see the red-bud glowing
On the distant eastern plain?
And the robin's red coat showing
By the mighty inland main?

Don't you hear the oriole calling
From the tallest orchard tree?
Don't you see the blossoms falling
In white showers o'er the lea?

Don't you see the flowers I bring?
Don't you hear the insects hum?
Don't you hear glad voices ring—
"Spring is coming! Spring is come!"