I. A Gentle Wind, Of Western Birth On Some Far Summer Sea, Wakes Daisies In The Wintry Earth, Wakes Hopes In Wintry Me. The Sun Is Low; The Paths Are Wet, And Dance With Frolic Hail; The Trees--Their Spring-Time Is Not Yet-- Swing Sighing In The Gale. Young Gleams Of Sunshine Peep And Play; Clouds Shoulder In Between; I Scarce Believe One Coming Day The Earth Will All Be Green. The North Wind Blows, And Blasts, And Raves, And Flaps His Snowy Wing: Back! Toss Thy Bergs On Arctic Waves; Thou Canst Not Bar Our Spring. Ii. Up Comes The Primrose, Wondering; The Snowdrop Droopeth By; The Holy Spirit Of The Spring Is Working Silently. Soft-Breathing Breezes Woo And Wile The Later Children Out; O'Er Woods And Farms A Sunny Smile Is Flickering About. The Earth Was Cold, Hard-Hearted, Dull; To Death Almost She Slept: Over Her, Heaven Grew Beautiful, And Forth Her Beauty Crept. Showers Yet Must Fall, And Waters Grow Dark-Wan With Furrowing Blast; But Suns Will Shine, And Soft Winds Blow, Till The Year Flowers At Last. Iii. The Sky Is Smiling Over Me, Hath Smiled Away The Frost; White Daisies Star The Sky-Like Lea, With Buds The Wood'S Embossed. Troops Of Wild Flowers Gaze At The Sky Up Through The Latticed Boughs; Till Comes The Green Cloud By And By, It Is Not Time To House. Yours Is The Day, Sweet Bird--Sing On; The Winter Is Forgot; Like An Ill Dream 'Tis Over And Gone: Pain That Is Past, Is Not. Joy That Was Past Is Yet The Same: If Care The Summer Brings, 'Twill Only Be Another Name For Love That Broods, Not Sings. Iv. Blow On Me, Wind, From West And South; Sweet Summer-Spirit, Blow! Come Like A Kiss From Dear Child'S Mouth, Who Knows Not What I Know. The Earth'S Perfection Dawneth Soon; Ours Lingereth Alway; We Have A Morning, Not A Noon; Spring, But No Summer Gay. Rose-Blotted Eve, Gold-Branded Morn Crown Soon The Swift Year'S Life: In Us A Higher Hope Is Born, And Claims A Longer Strife. Will Heaven Be An Eternal Spring With Summer At The Door? Or Shall We One Day Tell Its King That We Desire No More?