POEMS.
39
Whence cometh, whence cometh, this stranger fair?
Tell me, ye birds of the balmy air!
O mortal! this stranger is joyous Spring;
Soon shall the earth with his footsteps ring.
Tell me, ye birds of the balmy air!
O mortal! this stranger is joyous Spring;
Soon shall the earth with his footsteps ring.
Who cometh, who cometh, with laugh and song,
Bearing rich fruits and bright flowers along?
The rose and the lily are twined on her brow,
Light is her step 'neath the dark forest bough;
Swift at her presence the clouds pass away,
Bright glows the earth 'neath the sun's golden ray:
Soft sighs the breeze as she comes in her pride,
And panting, the kine seek the cool river side.
Whence cometh, whence cometh, this stranger bright?
Answer me, stars of the peaceful night!
O mortal! 'tis Summer, who casteth her spell
Over forest and plain, over mountain and dell.
Bearing rich fruits and bright flowers along?
The rose and the lily are twined on her brow,
Light is her step 'neath the dark forest bough;
Swift at her presence the clouds pass away,
Bright glows the earth 'neath the sun's golden ray:
Soft sighs the breeze as she comes in her pride,
And panting, the kine seek the cool river side.
Whence cometh, whence cometh, this stranger bright?
Answer me, stars of the peaceful night!
O mortal! 'tis Summer, who casteth her spell
Over forest and plain, over mountain and dell.
Who cometh, who cometh, with sober pace?
Clusters of vine-leaves o'ershadow his face;
Clasped in his hand are the thick sheaves of corn,
And the hunter's wild notes on his footsteps are borne.
Lo! as he cometh, the leaves fall and die,
And a deep yellow tint hath spread over the sky:
The poppies and corn-flow'rs wave high him to greet,
And the rich purple grape lays its stores at his feet.
Clusters of vine-leaves o'ershadow his face;
Clasped in his hand are the thick sheaves of corn,
And the hunter's wild notes on his footsteps are borne.
Lo! as he cometh, the leaves fall and die,
And a deep yellow tint hath spread over the sky:
The poppies and corn-flow'rs wave high him to greet,
And the rich purple grape lays its stores at his feet.
