24 February. 
Come on thy rosy hours,— 
Come on the buds and flowers, 
As when in Eden's bowers 
Spring first did reign ! 
Birds on thy breezes chime, 
Blithe as in that matin-time 
Their choiring begun : 
Earth, thou hast many a prime, — 
Man hath but one. 
Thou wak’st again, O Earth ! 
Freshly and new, 
As when at Spring’s first birth 
First flowerets grew. 
Heart ! that to Earth doth cling 
While boughs are blossoming, 
Why wake not too ? 
Long thou in sloth hast lain, 
Listing to Love’s soft strain— 
Wilt thou sleep on ? 
Playing, thou sluggard heart, 
In life no manly part, 
Though youth be gone. 
Wake ! ’tis Spring's quickening breath 
Now o’er thee blown : 
Wake thee ! and e’er in death 
Pulseless thou slumbereth, 
Pluck but from Glory’s wreath 
One leaf alone! 
Hoffman. 
