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Lucy Maud Montgomery - Spring Song
Work rating: Low

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
  List, the wind is from the south! 
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth. 

In the dreamy vale of beeches
  Fair and faint is woven mist, 
And the river`s orient reaches
  Are the palest amethyst. 

Every limpid brook is singing
  Of the lure of April days; 
Every piney glen is ringing
  With the maddest roundelays. 

Come and let us seek together
  Springtime lore of daffodils, 
Giving to the golden weather
  Greeting on the sun-warm hills. 

Ours shall be the moonrise stealing
  Through the birches ivory-white; 
Ours shall be the mystic healing
  Of the velvet-footed night. 

Ours shall be the gypsy winding
  Of the path with violets blue, 
Ours at last the wizard finding
  Of the land where dreams come true.
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