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Oliver Wendell Holmes - Spring Has Come
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INTRA MUROS

THE sunbeams, lost for half a year,
Slant through my pane their morning rays;
For dry northwesters cold and clear,
The east blows in its thin blue haze.

And first the snowdrop`s bells are seen,
Then close against the sheltering wall
The tulip`s horn of dusky green,
The peony`s dark unfolding ball.

The golden-chaliced crocus burns;
The long narcissus-blades appear;
The cone-beaked hyacinth returns
To light her blue-flamed chandelier.

The willow`s whistling lashes, wrung
By the wild winds of gusty March,
With sallow leaflets lightly strung,
Are swaying by the tufted larch.

The elms have robed their slender spray
With full-blown flower and embryo leaf;
Wide o`er the clasping arch of day
Soars like a cloud their hoary chief.

See the proud tulip`s flaunting cup,
That flames in glory for an hour,--
Behold it withering,--then look up,--
How meek the forest monarch`s flower!

When wake the violets, Winter dies;
When sprout the elm-buds, Spring is near:
When lilacs blossom, Summer cries,
"Bud, little roses! Spring is here!"

The windows blush with fresh bouquets,
Cut with the May-dew on their lips;
The radish all its bloom displays,
Pink as Aurora`s finger-tips.

Nor less the flood of light that showers
On beauty`s changed corolla-shades,--
The walks are gay as bridal bowers
With rows of many-petalled maids.

The scarlet shell-fish click and clash
In the blue barrow where they slide;
The horseman, proud of streak and splash,
Creeps homeward from his morning ride.

Here comes the dealer`s awkward string,
With neck in rope and tail in knot,--
Rough colts, with careless country-swing,
In lazy walk or slouching trot.

    . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Wild filly from the mountain-side,
Doomed to the close and chafing thills,
Lend me thy long, untiring stride
To seek with thee thy western hills!

I hear the whispering voice of Spring,
The thrush`s trill, the robin`s cry,
Like some poor bird with prisoned wing
That sits and sings, but longs to fly.

Oh for one spot of living greed,--
One little spot where leaves can grow,--
To love unblamed, to walk unseen,
To dream above, to sleep below!
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