Hail! reviving, joyous Spring,
      Smiling through thy veil of showers;
    Birds and brooks thy welcome sing,—­
      Haste, and waken all thy flowers.

    Hark! a sweet pervading sound! 
      From the breathing, moving earth
    Life is starting all around,
      Sending joy and fragrance forth.

    O’er the oak’s gigantic form
      Blossoms hang their drapery;
    Branches that defied the storm
      Now are full of melody.

    There is not a silent thing
      In this joyous company;
    Woods, and hills, and valleys ring
      With a shout of jubilee.

    Wake, my spirit! art thou still? 
      Senseless things have found a voice;
    Shall this throbbing heart be still,
      When all nature cries, “Rejoice”?

    Wake, come forth, my bounding soul! 
      Join the universal glee,
    Yield to nature’s kind control,
      Catch her heavenly harmony.

    Join the grateful, happy throng,
      Cast each selfish care away;
    Birds and brooks shall tune your song;
      This is nature’s holiday.

HER VOYAGE IS AT AN END.

    Hushed was the ocean’s stormy roar,
      Still as an infant’s joy;
    There sat upon the rocky shore
      A father and his boy.

    Far off they saw a gallant ship,
      It came from foreign lands;
    The boy began to dance and skip,
      And clap his little hands.

    Her wished-for port is near at hand,
      The ship is hastening on;
    They hear the birds sing on the land;
      Her voyage is nearly done.

    The boy’s glad notes, his shouts of glee,
      The rocks with music fill;
    But now he cries,—­“See, father, see! 
      The ship is standing still.”

    Her masts are trembling from the shock. 
      Her white sails all descend;
    The ship has struck upon a rock,—­
      Her voyage is at an end.

    The sailors hurry to and fro,
      All crowded is the deck;
    She struggles hard,—­she’s free;—­O, no! 
      She is indeed a wreck.

    The boy’s young heart is full of grief: 
      “Father! what will she do? 
    Let’s take the boat to her relief,
      O, quickly let us go!”

    They went,—­and many a stronger hand
      Its ready succour gave;
    They brought the crew all safe to land,
      And the cargo tried to save.

    The night comes on, the night is dark,
      More dark the billows seem;
    They break against the ship, and hark! 
      The seamew’s mournful scream.

    The boy upon his pillow lies,
      In sweet repose he sinks;
    And, as he shuts his weary eyes,
      On the poor ship he thinks.

    The sun shines o’er the watery main
      As it did the day before;
    The father and his son again
      Are seated on the shore.