Spring There is not a spring that wakes and creeps In couched delight among the glade, And wakes the shivering, speaking trees, As nature breathes sweet serenade. \nFor this may breathe the soul of joy Into the heart of those who see, The way the grass a-press upon a joy— Nature flows and lives to be! \nNow here it blooms, now there it blows, A wondrous light, a holiday, But every flower unto its wandered rose Is honor’d as the time does day.

• George Meredith