Is poured into this perfect day!

For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers

That lingered on their way,

Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May,

Entangled with the bloom of later hours,—

Anemones and cinque-foils, violets blue

And white, and iris richly gleaming through

The grasses of the meadow, and a blaze

Of butter-cups and daisies in the field,

Filling the air with praise,

As if a chime of golden bells had pealed!

The frozen songs within the breast

Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods,

Melt into rippling floods

Of gladness unrepressed.

Now oriole and bluebird, thrush and lark,

Warbler and wren and vireo,

Mingle their melody; the living spark

Of Love has touched the fuel of desire,

And every heart leaps up in singing fire.

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