Poems (Helen Jenkins)/Springtime Glories

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SPRINGTIME GLORIES.
The beautiful Springtime bright and fair,With its balmy beauties rich and rare,Meets and greets us everywhere.
The twittering birds dart through the air,Or warble, in the tree-tops bare,Outgushing notes of praise and prayer.
The willows unfold to our eager viewTheir velvety catkins shining throughLittle brown waterproofs fresh and new.
Down creviced boulders dark and gray,The singing brooklets find their way,And laugh and dance in freedom gay.
Violets peep from each mossy mound,And, listening, bend to the joyous soundOf the singing birds and brooks unbound.
The frogs' shrill vespers resound at eve,Rejoicing their wintry haunts to leave,Echoing Nature's glad reprieve.
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The twilight tinges with golden hueThe fleecy cloud-caps; and gleaming throughAre twinkling stars and fathomless blue.
In deep ravines the shadows creep,Their sceret fantaisies to keepWhere glinting moonbeams rarely peep.
There, frost and snow are hiding yetTheir exiled monarch's coronet,With pearls and diamonds interset.
Ah, well may Winter hide his face!The morrow's sunshine may effaceOf his late glory every trace.
Then welcome be the Springtime bright!Our hearts exultant, with delightAnd gratitude are filled to-night.
Heaven, smiling, o'er the glad earth bends;Beauty with glory meets and blends,And sacred joy to life-work lends.


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