“THE WILLOW BOUGHS ARE YELLOW NOW.”

The willow boughs are yellow now, For spring has come again; The peach-tree buds begin to swell, Dripping with April rain.

The gray-eyed twilight lingers long, To meet the starry night; I walk the darkening lanes alone, And love the sombre light.

The dream of other days returns, When comes the blossomed spring; But when the full leaved summer comes My dream has taken wing;

The twittering swallows in the lane Were there a year ago; The old nests in the tangled vines Their next year's brood will know.

A little brood of children fair, Under the mother's wing, Is in the dream of other days, That flies when flies the spring!