Spring.

Oh! the world looks glad, for the spring has smiled,     And the birds are come with their "wood-notes wild,"     And the waters leap with a joyous sound,     Like freedom's voice when a chain's unbound.     And soon with its bloom will the earth be gay,     For the air is bland as the breath of May;     Sunshine and buds and all glorious things     Will give to the hours their downiest wings.     Nature has burst from her wintry tomb,     Wreathed with the glory of brightening bloom;     Fetters of frost-work are gently unbound,     Blossoms and flowers are clustering round.     Bosoms that know not the blighting of care,     Sunshine and gladness may smilingly wear;     But for the broken and desolate heart     Springtime, alas! has no balm to impart.     Tones that are hushed it awakens no more;     "Friends that are gone" it can never restore;     Yet e'en to the mourner one hope it may bring,     'Tis the type of Eternity's glorious spring.