'Tis sweet, in the green Spring, <br />To gaze upon the wakening fields around; <br />Birds in the thicket sing, <br />Winds whisper, waters prattle from the ground; <br />A thousand odours rise, <br />Breathed up from blossoms of a thousand dyes. <br /> <br />Shadowy, and close, and cool, <br />The pine and poplar keep their quiet nook; <br />For ever fresh and full, <br />Shines, at their feet, the thirst-inviting brook; <br />And the soft herbage seems <br />Spread for a place of banquets and of dreams. <br /> <br />Thou, who alone art fair, <br />And whom alone I love, art far away. <br />Unless thy smile be there, <br />It makes me sad to see the earth so gay; <br />I care not if the train <br />Of leaves, and flowers, and zephyrs go again.<br /><br />William Cullen Bryant<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-spanish-of-villegas/
