'Tis sweet, in the green Spring, To gaze upon the wakening fields around; Birds in the thicket sing,
I gazed upon the glorious sky And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie
The earth was sown with early flowers, The heavens were blue and bright, I met a youthful cavalier
Blessed, yet sinful one, and broken-hearted! The crowd are pointing at the thing forlorn, In wonder and in scorn!
I. When to the common rest that crowns our days, Called in the noon of life, the good man goes,
Region of life and light! Land of the good whose earthly toils are o'er! Nor frost nor heat may blight
When, as the garish day is done, Heaven burns with the descended sun, 'Tis passing sweet to mark,
Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast,
Oh silvery streamlet of the fields, That flowest full and free! For thee the rains of spring return,