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ARBOR DA V MANUAL. 
BREATHINGS OF SPRING. 
W HAT wak’st thou, Spring ?—sweet voices in the woods, 
And reed-like echoes, that have long been mute ; 
Thou bringest back, to fill the solitudes, 
The lark’s clear pipe, the cuckoo’s viewless flute, » 
Whose tone seems breathing mournfulness or glee, 
Even as our hearts may be. 
And the leaves greet thee, Spring !— the joyous leaves. 
Whose tremblings gladden many a copse and glade. 
Where each young spray a rosy flush receives, 
When thy south wind hath pierced the whispery shade, 
And happy murmurs, running through the grass. 
Tell that thy footsteps pass. 
.And the bright waters — they, too, hear thy call. 
Spring, the awakener! thou hast burst their sleep ! 
.Amidst the hollows of the rocks their fall 
Makes melody, and in the forests deep, 
Where sudden sparkles and blue gleams betray 
Their windings to the day. 
And flowers-—the fairv-peopled world of flowers I 
Thou from the dust hast set that glory free, 
Coloring the cowslip with the sunny hours, 
And penciling the wood-anemone : 
Silent they seem ; yet each to thoughtful eye 
Glows with mute poesy. 
But what awak’st thou in the heart, O Spring !— 
The human heart, with all its dreams and sighs? 
Thou that giv’st back so many a buried thing, 
Restorer of forgotten harmonies ! 
Fresh songs and scents break forth where ’er thou art: 
What wak’st thou in the heart ? 
Too much, oh, there, too much !—we know not well 
Wherefore it should be thus ; yet, roused by thee, 
What fond, strange yearnings, from the soul’s deep cell, 
Gush for the faces we no more may see ! 
How are we haunted, in thy wind’s low tone, 
By voices that are gone ! 
Looks of familiar love, that never more 
Never on earth, our aching eyes shall meet, 
Past words of welcome to our household door, 
