Blossom-time.

    Yes, it is drawing nigh -
    The time of blossoming;
The waiting heart beats stronger
    With every breath of Spring,
The days are growing longer;
    While happy hours go by
    As if on zephyr wing.

    A wealth of mellow light
    Reflected from the skies
The hill and vale is flooding;
    Still in their leafless guise
The Jacqueminots are budding,
    Creating new delight
    By promise of surprise.

    The air is redolent
    As ocean breezes are
From spicy islands blowing,
    Or groves of Malabar
Where sandal-wood is growing;
    Or sweet, diffusive scent,
    From fragrant attar-jar.

    Just so is loveliness
    Renewed from year to year;
And thus emotions tender,
    Born of the atmosphere,
Of bloom, and vernal splendor
    That words cannot express,
    Make Spring forever dear.

    Can mortal man behold
    So beautiful a scene,
Without the innate feeling
    That thus, like dying sheen
The sunset hues revealing,
    Glints pure, celestial gold
    On fields of living green?