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Therefore I love the walks of Spring,— While still I hear new warblers sing,

Fresh-opening bells I see ; Joy flits on every roving wing,

Hope buds on every tree.

That morn I look'd and listen'd long, Some cheering sight, some woodland song,

As yet unheard, unseen. To welcome, with remembrance strong

Of days that once had been ; —

When gathering flowers, an eager child, I ran abroad with rapture wild ;

Or, on more curious quest, Peep'd breathless through the copse, and smile ',

To see the linnet's nest.

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