Spring - An 1845 Poem

By J.T. Wall. Morgantown, April 15, 1845.

She comes! she comes! the goddess of spring!

And the gleam of her bright and waving wing,

As she sweeps along thro' the breeze and beam,

Brightens the waves of the waking stream.

She comes! and the grim old winter king

Has spread to the blast his frosty wing,

And far away in the North has flown,

To his frozen halls and his icy throne!

A mantle of beauty and life is cast

Wherever the vernal goddess has passed —

She has shaken her wing and the sparkling showers

She has breathed on the peaks of the lofty mountains,

And their snows are gone and the cool sweet fountains

Thro' their vallies are bursting wild and free,

And their waves make music and mirth and glee!

The hills away in the distance are seen,

Robing themselves in colors of green;

The blue-bells peep from their woodland bowers,

Inhaling the breath of the joyous hours;

And flowers are springing in vale and dell.

And many a tale of love they tell;

Oh! many a story their beauties will speak,

And many a blush to the burning cheek

Will come, when they pass as a painful token

Of some forgotten and promises broken!

The birds are here and their thrilling strain

Gladdens the free blue sky again;

The lark is up with the morn's first ray,

And high thro' the blue vault speeds away;

And the martin has come that was gone so long,

Gladdening all with his joyous song;

And his plumage gleans in the warm sunlight,

As he glances away in his arrowy flight.

The stainless sky o'er the lake is bending —

Its own deep hue to its bright wave lending;

The earth from its wintry sleep is waking,

A world of beauty upon us is breaking —

But my wild harp fails thy beauties to sing,

So, welcome, welcome! spring! sweet spring!

May 8, 1845. New York Daily Tribune 5(25): 4.