Spring Song

I am the Vision and the Dream     Of trembling Age, and yearning Youth;     I am the Sorceress Supreme.     I am Illusion; I am Truth.     I am the Queen to whom belongs     The royal right great gifts to give;     I am the Singer of the Songs     That lure men on to live and live.     There is no music like to mine;     I sing in green, and gold and red;     I pour from secret casks the wine     That cheers the cold hearts of the dead.     My harp it has a thousand tones,     And makes the world with joy a-flood;     The old men feel it in their bones,     And life leaps laughing in their blood.     The sourest mortal all in vain     Shall try from me to keep apart;     I have no commerce with his brain,     I storm the fortress of his heart.     I am the Soul of things to come;     I make a lover from a log;     I make a poet of the dumb;     I make a seraph of a frog.     The lover with a wrecked romance,     The gambler by misfortune struck,     I bring to them another chance-     New life, new times, new love, new luck.     My names are all the names impearled     In all the songs my singers sing;     I am the sweetheart of the world,     I am Carissima-the Spring!