Spring

See—Through brave white wings on Parker’s shore Where Banks along the rivers spray bloom chorus, What canvas gathers in the roaring core Of Spring’s no longer waiting, moved now gorgeous.

Come whistle! Come chant with fiddler bird on tree, That feels its pulse be every larger laughter, In crowds of bloom and joy of singing foolishly, When blushing blushes rise before the plank of laughter.

Where thunder rolls the petals single hands, And rivers tangle every bridge; they cry from birth, So let us gather softly, till time’s slow demands, Unravel at dusk to show the yearn of Earth.

• Ralph Waldo Emerson