Spring.

Oh! the world looks glad, for the spring has smiled, And the birds are come with their "wood-notes wild," And the waters leap with a joyous sound, Like freedom's voice when a chain's unbound. And soon with its bloom will the earth be gay, For the air is bland as the breath of May; Sunshine and buds and all glorious things Will give to the hours their downiest wings. Nature has burst from her wintry tomb, Wreathed with the glory of brightening bloom; Fetters of frost-work are gently unbound, Blossoms and flowers are clustering round. Bosoms that know not the blighting of care, Sunshine and gladness may smilingly wear; But for the broken and desolate heart Springtime, alas! has no balm to impart. Tones that are hushed it awakens no more; "Friends that are gone" it can never restore; Yet e'en to the mourner one hope it may bring, 'Tis the type of Eternity's glorious spring.