The Young Of Spring

There are so many, many young! So many, in thy world, O Spring, And scarcely yet they find a tongue, Their wants to cry, their joys to sing.

There are so many, many young young-- Be tender to such tenderness; And let soft arms be round them flung, Keep them from blight, from weather stress!

White lambs upon the green-lit sward, And dappled darlings of the kine-- O Spring, have them in watch and ward And mother them--for all are thine.

There are so many, many young! Thine, too, the wild mouse and her brood Within a last year's bird's-nest swung-- And all shy litters of the wood!

There are so many, many young young-- Guard all--guard closeliest this year's nest; Oh, guard, for Joy, the songs unsung Within the thrush's speckled breast!