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Therefore I love the walks of Spring,— While still I hear new warblers sing,
Fresh-opening bells I see ; Joy flits on every roving wing,
Hope buds on every tree.
That morn I look'd and listen'd long, Some cheering sight, some woodland song,
As yet unheard, unseen. To welcome, with remembrance strong
Of days that once had been ; —
When gathering flowers, an eager child, I ran abroad with rapture wild ;
Or, on more curious quest, Peep'd breathless through the copse, and smile ',
To see the linnet's nest.
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