Engraved expressly for Godey's Lady's Book
by J.B. Neagle, 1851
by Fanny Fales
She is with us! she is with us!
For I list her gentle sigh,
And her music tones of gladness,
Floating through the branches dry;
Now the south wind lifts the carpet
Spread beneath the forest old;
Waketh up the scented violet
From her bed of richest mould.
Softly trills the little sparrow,
Pecking seeds from out the sod;
And the robin, o'er me flying,
Lifts his anthem up to God.
To the dear old nest returneth,
Yet again, the bluebird bright—
To the hollow tree whence, yearly,
Azure birdlings wing their flight.
Now the brooklet is unfettered,
Swollen by the melted snow;
Shining like a thread of silver—
Singing through the vale below:
Tokens of the happy springtime,
On the hillside by the brook;
Emerald grasses, velvet mosses,
Smile from many a sunny nook.
On the cottage eaves alighting,
Swallows in the sunlight sing,
Filling all the air around me
With their joyous twittering.
O'er the deep blue upper ocean
Little white-winged barges fly;
Melting out, like fairy phantoms,
'Neath the Day-god's burning eye.
Sap is welling, leaf-buds swelling,
Springing towards their shining goal,
Bursting from their darkened dwelling,
Like the freed immortal soul.
Spring is with us! She is with us!
New life wakes in every vein;
Fresh hopes in my heart are welling,
As I welcome her again!