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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


IN SPRING-TIDE by LEWIS MORRIS (1833-1907)

First Line: THIS IS THE HOUR, THE DAY
Last Line: BLOSSOMING-TIME IS COME -- REJOICE, JOICE, REJOICE!
Subject(s): SPRING;

THIS is the hour, the day,
The time, the season sweet.
Quick! hasten, laggard feet,
Brook not delay;
Love flies, youth passes, Maytide will not last;
Forth, forth, while yet 'tis time, before the Spring is past.

The Summer's glories shine
From all her garden ground,
With lilies prankt around,
And roses fine;
But the pink blooms or white upon the bursting trees,
Primrose and violet sweet, what charm has June like these?

This is the time of song.
From many a joyous throat,
Mute all the dull year long,
Soars love's clear note;
Summer is dumb, and faint with dust and heat;
This is the mirthful time when every sound is sweet.

Fair day of larger light,
Life's own appointed hour,
Young souls bud forth in white --
The world's a-flower;
Thrill, youthful heart; soar upward, limpid voice;
Blossoming-time is come -- rejoice, joice, rejoice!



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