I WAKENED to the singing of a bird,
He was the bird of spring!
And, lo!
At his sweet note
The flowers began to grow,
Grass, leaves, and everything;
As if the green world heard
The trumpet of his tiny throat
From end to end, and winter and despair
Fled at his melody and passed in air.

I heard at dawn the music of a voice
O my belovëd, then I said, the spring
Can visit only once the waiting year,
The bird can bring
Only the season's song, nor his the choice
To waken smiles or the remembering tear.
But thou dost bring
Springtime to every day, and at thy call
The flowers of life unfold though leaves of autumn fall.