THE RETURN OF THE SPRING.
By Sarah E. Sprague
If you wait for the breath of the lilacs
To tell the return of the spring,
And must see the red breast of the robin
To know the glad note he will sing;
If you hear not his song, clear and happy,
Inwoven with ev'ry warm breeze
That floats joyously up from the Southland
To bring the green back to the trees;
If you see not the hue of arbutus
In every pink-tinted cloud;
If you see not, 'mid lingering snowdrifts,
That jonquils and crocuses crowd;
If you smell not the breath of the flowers
Ere yet they have started from earth;
If you feel not the sap when ascending,
And know not the violet's birth;
If you see but the first pussy-willows,
In silver-gray hoods that they wear,
And you feel not the thrill of your childhood,
The dropping of years and of care—
You will miss all the message of spring-time,
And hear not her footsteps advance
By the paths known of birds and of blossoms,
With sunbeams and youth all a-dance.
—Sarah E. Sprague.