Ix

The wind on the wold, With sea-scents and sea-dreams attended, Is wine! The air is as gold In elixir--it takes so the splendid Sunshine!

O, the larks in the blue! How the song of them glitters, and glances, And gleams! The old music sounds new-- And it's O, the wild Spring, and his chances And dreams!

There's a lift in the blood-- O, this gracious, and thirsting, and aching Unrest! All life's at the bud, And my heart, full of April, is breaking My breast.