Authors:
  • Hark, I hear a robin calling!
    List, the wind is from the south!
    And the orchard-bloom is falling
    Sweet as kisses on the mouth.

    In the dreamy vale of beeches
    Fair and faint is woven mist,
    And the river's orient reaches
    Are the palest amethyst.

    Every limpid brook is singing
    Of the lure of April days;
    Every piney glen is ringing
    With the maddest roundelays.

    Come and let us seek together
    Springtime lore of daffodils,
    Giving to the golden weather
    Greeting on the sun-warm hills.