To Spring - An 1807 Poem

Come gentle spring aetherial maid,

With nature's richest robes array'd,

On pleasure's pinions borne;

Descend upon our desert plains,

And joy will rise on grateful strains,

To greet thy lov'd return.

 

The robin resting on the spray,

Sings to the slow declining day,

To bring thy cheering smiles;

But morn returns with deepest gloom,

And not a flower in nature's bloom,

The listless eye beguiles.

 

O haste and clothe our barren fields

With the rich dress thy verdure yields,

And breathe the balmy gale,

Again enrobe the leafless grove,

The haunts of study and of love,

With music fill the vale.

 

On notes of grateful joy will rise,

Our hearts, an offering to the skies,

For thy long wish'd return.

May 14, 1807. Boston Independent Chronicle 39(2718): 4.