Youth'S Spring-Tribute

On this sweet bank your head thrice sweet and dear I lay, and spread your hair on either side, And see the newborn wood flowers bashful-eyed Look through the golden tresses here and there. On these debateable* borders of the year Spring's foot half falters; scarce she yet may know The leafless blackthorn-blossom from the snow; And through her bowers the wind's way still is clear.

But April's sun strikes down the glades to-day; So shut your eyes upturned, and feel my kiss Creep, as the Spring now thrills through every spray, Up your warm throat to your warm lips: for this Is even the hour of Love's sworn suitservice, With whom cold hearts are counted castaway.

*[sic]