HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove!
Thou messenger of Spring!
Now Heaven repairs thy
And woods thy welcome ring.
What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear:
Hast thou a star to guide thy
Or mark the rolling year?
Delightful visitant! with thee
I hail the time of flowers,
And hear the sound of music sweet
birds among the bowers.
The schoolboy, wandring through the wood
To pull the primrose gay,
Starts, the new voice of
Spring to hear,
And imitates thy lay.
What time the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou flist thy vocal vale,
An annual guest in other lands,
Spring to hail.
Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
Winter in thy year!
O could I fly, Id fly with thee!
Wed make, with joyful wing,
Our annual visit oer the globe,
of the Spring.
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