Blossom-time.

Yes, it is drawing nigh -         The time of blossoming;     The waiting heart beats stronger         With every breath of Spring,     The days are growing longer;         While happy hours go by         As if on zephyr wing.         A wealth of mellow light         Reflected from the skies     The hill and vale is flooding;         Still in their leafless guise     The Jacqueminots are budding,         Creating new delight          By promise of surprise.         The air is redolent         As ocean breezes are     From spicy islands blowing,         Or groves of Malabar     Where sandal-wood is growing;         Or sweet, diffusive scent,         From fragrant attar-jar.         Just so is loveliness         Renewed from year to year;     And thus emotions tender,         Born of the atmosphere,     Of bloom, and vernal splendor         That words cannot express,         Make Spring forever dear.         Can mortal man behold         So beautiful a scene,     Without the innate feeling         That thus, like dying sheen     The sunset hues revealing,         Glints pure, celestial gold         On fields of living green?