Spring rays at last begin to muster And chase from nearby hills the snow, Whose turbid streams flow down and cluster To inundate the fields below. And drowsy nature, smiling lightly, Now greets the dawning season brightly. The heavens sparkle now with blue; The still transparent woods renew Their downy green and start to thicken. The bee flies out from waxen cell To claim its meed from field and dell. The vales grow dry and colours quicken; The cattle low; and by the moon The nightingale pours forth its tune.
