The Return of the Flowers.

Ye flowers of the woodland so wild,1
That grow without culture or plan,2
Ye’re fair to the eyes of the child,3
Ye’re dear to the heart of the man ;4
Like smiles on Earth’s beautiful face,5
Or gems on the garment of Spring,6
A pleasure, a charm, and a grace,7
Oh ! sweet are the joys that ye bring.8
If Nature, less kind to the year,9
Would only, when centuries rolled,10
Permit your fresh buds to appear11
Arrayed in your azure or gold,12
Whole nations, with grateful surprise,13
Would swarm to the fields and the bowers,14
And, gazing with reverent eyes,15
Would sing “ the return of the flowers.”16
Yet, blooms of the woodland so fair,17
Our hearts shall not prize you the less,18
Because you are free as the air19
To all whom your presence can bless.20
The night and the morning shall vie21
In scattering their glories around,22
The Night with the stars in her sky,23
The Day with her flowers on the ground.24