Once more the sweet, unrivaled Spring
Makes green the grass about our doors:
In living light the phoebe soars,
and thrilled with life, forbears to sing.
Yet to those broken notes belong
Sweet ecstasies, too deep for words,
For we must leave to eager birds
That which we fail to put in song.
Though no new tidings she may bear-
The same with each succeeding May-
Yet must we listen and obey
And find immortal passion there!
Though hills are green, and country ways,
And were since Life and Time began,
There comes anew to every man
The hope and power of April Days.
So might these eager lines contain
A breath of Spring that stirs me through;
The springtime is forever new,
The April sunlight and the rain.