Ii

The time when dog-tooth violets Hold up inverted horns of gold,-- The elvish cups that Spring upsets With dripping feet, when April wets The sun-and-shadow-marbled wold,--

Is come. And by each leafing way The sorrel drops pale blots of pink; And, like an angled star a fay Sets on her forehead’s pallid day, The blossoms of the trillium wink.

Within the vale, by rock and stream,-- A fragile, fairy porcelain,-- Blue as a baby’s eyes a-dream, The bluets blow; and gleam in gleam The sun-shot dogwoods flash with rain.

It is the time to cast off care; To make glad intimates of these:-- The frank-faced sunbeam laughing there: The great-heart wind, that bids us share The optimism of the trees.