Spring
Again the violet of our early days
Drinks beauteous azure from the golden sun,
And kindles into fragrance as his blaze;
The streams, rejoiced that winter's work is done,
Talk of to-morrow's cowslips, as they run.
Wild apple, thou are blushing into bloom!
Thy leaves are coming, snowy-blossomed thorn!
Wake, buried lily! spirit, quit thy tomb!
And thou shade-loving hyacinth, be born!
Then haste, sweet rose! sweet wood-bine, hymn the morn,
Whose dewdrops shall illume with pearly light
Each grassy blade that thick embattled stands
From sea to sea, while daisies infinite
Uplift in praise their little glowing hands,
O'er every hill that under heaven expands.
Ebenezer Elliott
The orchard is finally in bloom, almost 4 weeks later than last summer. Heise's trees are gracing the lawn with a canopy of white and pink.
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