Poetry Archives

King Winter sleeps. His daughter, Spring,
  His sceptre steals away,
And, laughing, bids fair Nature bring
  For once a perfect day.

Bright glows the sun in azure skies,
  And balmy blows the breeze,
On gayer wing the sparrow flies,
  And softly sway the trees.

The seasons run like some great stream
  That to the ocean flows,
The waves that here in sunshine gleam
  Bound there in mountain snows:

And, as where darkling waters steal,
  Drear walls of rock between,
Yet in their depths a gem reveal
  That glows with sunny sheen.

So in this blustering month that bears
  The banner of the year,
Such days as this with balmy airs
  Amid the storms appear.

It is but meet that thy birthday
  Should open bright and warm,
And into darkness fade away
  Without a cloud or storm.