Over the hills of April <br />With soft winds hand in hand, <br />Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, <br />Spring leads her saraband. <br />Her garments float and gather <br />And swirl along the plain, <br />Her headgear is the golden sun, <br />Her cloak the silver rain. <br /> <br />With colour and with music, <br />With perfumes and with pomp, <br />By meadowland and upland, <br />Through pasture, wood, and swamp, <br />With promise and enchantment <br />Leading her mystic mime, <br />She comes to lure the world anew <br />With joy as old as time. <br /> <br />Quick lifts the marshy chorus <br />To transport, trill on trill; <br />There's not a rod of stony ground <br />Unanswering on the hill. <br />The brooks and little rivers <br />Dance down their wild ravines, <br />And children in the city squares <br />Keep time, to tambourines. <br /> <br />The blue bird in the orchard <br />Is lyrical for her, <br />The starling with his meadow pipe <br />Sets all the wood astir, <br />The hooded white spring-beauties <br />Are curtsying in the breeze, <br />The blue hepaticas are out <br />Under the chestnut trees. <br />The maple buds make glamour <br />Vibernum waves its bloom, <br />The daffodils and tulips <br />Are risen from the tomb. <br />The lances of narcissus <br />Have pierced the wintry mold; <br />The commonplace seems paradise <br />To veils of greening gold. <br /> <br />O hark, hear thou the summons, <br />Put every grief away, <br />When all the motley masques of earth <br />Are glad upon a day. <br />Alack, that any mortal <br />Should less than gladness bring <br />Into the choral joy that sounds <br />The saraband of spring!<br /><br />Bliss William Carman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-s-saraband/
