Poems (Bradford)/The voice of spring

For works with similar titles, see The voice of spring.
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THE VOICE OF SPRING.
I am coming! I am coming!  Don't you hear the voice of spring? Don't you hear the wild bees humming?  Don't you see the flowers I bring?
I am coming down the mountain  With my light and joyous feet; I am hast'ning to the fountain  Where the winds and waters meet.
Don't you smell the breath of orchards  On the incense-laden breeze? Don't you get the scent of honey  From the homeward going bees?
Don't you see the rivulets swirling  Down the distant mountain side? Don't you see their foam-skirts whirling  Like a maiden's in her pride?
Don't you see the fresh growth swelling  On the twiglets of the pine? And the bluebird pick his dwelling  In this forest haunt of mine?
Don't you see the red-bud glowing  On the distant eastern plain? And the robin's red coat showing  By the mighty inland main?
Don't you hear the oriole calling  From the tallest orchard tree? Don't you see the blossoms falling  In white showers o'er the lea?
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Don't you see the flowers I bring?  Don't you hear the insects hum? Don't you hear glad voices ring— "Spring is coming! Spring is come!"

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