Spring Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Gentle Spring! in sunshine clad,
       &nbsp Well dost thou thy power display!
For Winter maketh the light heart sad,
       &nbsp And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay.
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,
The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain;
And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,
       &nbsp When thy merry step draws near.
Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old,
       &nbsp Their beards of icicles and snow;
And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold,
       &nbsp We must cower over the embers low;
And, snugly housed from the wind and weather,
Mope like birds that are changing feather.
But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,
       &nbsp When thy merry step draws near.
Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky
       &nbsp Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud;
But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;
       &nbsp Thou tearest away the mournful shroud,
And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly,
Who has toiled for naught both late and early,
Is banished afar by the new-born year,
       &nbsp When thy merry step draws near.