S P R I N G

THOU goddess of the blooming Spring
Inspire my languid lays:
Come, rouse me up from sloth and supine,
And bid me found thy praise.

The Winter's freezing power is gone;
The trees, with verdure green,
And blooming flow'rs, all deck the plain,
Most pleasant to be seen.

The songsters, warbling through their throats,
Invite the nymphs all round,
To join and chant their sprightly notes,
Which make a joyful sound.

Bright Phoebus, with his warmth divine,
Inspires all things with joy:
The grapes appear upon the vine,
Which charm the gazing eye.

The balmy Zephyrs, breathing round,
Deck flowr's in various hues;
Though Winter's cold had laid them low,
Kind Spring their bloom renews.

The lowing cattle, from the stalls,
Do range the fields all around,
Well pleas'd to taste the tender herb
Of late not to be found.

The bleating flocks are featter'd wide
Upon the sunny hills;
The frisking lambs do sport and play
Beside the trickling rills.

The Lark, high soaring in the air,
Her grateful song does sing;
And welcomes, with her early notes,
The all-reviving Spring.

The whistling Ploughman, cheerful, goes
Forth with his harness'd steeds,
With songs deceives the toilsome day,
Preparing for the feeds.

All Nature wantons in her prime,
There's nought but joy around;
Each creature tunes it's grateful song,
'Till echoing hills resound.

Oh Man! reflect, be wise in time!
Improve each passing year!
Though Spring stern Winter does succeed,
Thine goes ne'er more t' appear!

Time soon dissolves the human dream,
And brings the languid hour;
We soon are not what now we seem,
Our stength has lost it's pow'r!

Blest is that man, who fixes firm
His hopes beyond the skies,
Where frowning Winter ne'er can vex,
But endless Spring there lies!

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