INFANT Spirit of the Spring! On thy fresh-plumed pinion, bring Snow-drops like thy stainless brow— Violet, primrose—cull them now, With the cup of daffodil, Which the fairies love to fill, Ere each moon-dance they renew, With the fragrant honey dew; Bring them, Spirit!—bring them hither Ere the wind have time to wither; Or the sun to steal their dyes, To paint, at eve, the western skies. Bring them for the wreath of one— Fairest, best, that Time hath known. Infant Spirit! dreams have told Of thy golden hours of old, When the amaranth was flung O'er creation bright and young; When the wind had sweeter sound Than holiest lute-string since hath found; When the sigh of angels sent Fragrance through the firmament: Then thy glorious gifts were shed O'er full many a virgin head: Of those forms of beauty, none Gladden now this earth, save one! Hither, then, thy blossoms bring, Infant Spirit of the Spring! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH MATE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON BEFORE A PAINTING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 3. WASHINGTON, D.C. by CLARENCE MAJOR |