SPRING 95 



When the hills were born, 

 There was never a leaf uncurled 

 Not the first that grew 

 Nor a bee-flight hurled, 

 Nor a bird-note skirled, 

 Nor a cloud-wisp swirled 

 In the depth of the blue, 



More alive and afresh and impromptu, more 

 thoughtless and certain and free. 



In the re-wrought sphere 



Of the new-born year 



Now, now, 



When the greenlet sings on the red-bud bough 



Where the blossoms are whispering, " I and thou," 



"landthou," 



And a lass at the turn looks after her lad with a dawn 



on her brow, 

 And the world is just made now ! 



Spring in the heart! 



With her pinks and pearls and yellows! 



Spring, fellows, 



And we too feel the little green leaves a-start 



Across the bare-twigged winter of the mart. 



The campus is reborn in us to-day; 



The old grip stirs our hearts with new-old joy; 



Again bursts bonds for madcap holiday 



The eternal boy. 



