The winds that on the uplands softly lie, <br />Grow keener where the ice is lingering still <br />Where the first robin on the sheltered hill <br />Pipes blithely to the tune, "When Spring goes by!" <br />Hear him again, "Spring! Spring!" He seems to cry, <br />Haunting the fall of the flute-throated rill, <br />That keeps a gentle, constant, silver thrill, <br />While he is restless in his ecstasy. <br /> <br />Ah! the soft budding of the virginal woods, <br />Of the frail fruit trees by the vanishing lakes: <br />There's the new moon where the clear sunset floods, <br />A trace of dew upon the rose leaf sky; <br />And hark! what rapture the glad robin wakes- <br />"When Spring goes by; Spring! Spring! When <br />Spring goes by."<br /><br />Duncan Campbell Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-spring-goes-by/
