Oh! The World Looks Glad, For The Spring Has Smiled, And The Birds Are Come With Their "Wood-Notes Wild," And The Waters Leap With A Joyous Sound, Like Freedom'S Voice When A Chain'S Unbound. And Soon With Its Bloom Will The Earth Be Gay, For The Air Is Bland As The Breath Of May; Sunshine And Buds And All Glorious Things Will Give To The Hours Their Downiest Wings. Nature Has Burst From Her Wintry Tomb, Wreathed With The Glory Of Brightening Bloom; Fetters Of Frost-Work Are Gently Unbound, Blossoms And Flowers Are Clustering Round. Bosoms That Know Not The Blighting Of Care, Sunshine And Gladness May Smilingly Wear; But For The Broken And Desolate Heart Springtime, Alas! Has No Balm To Impart. Tones That Are Hushed It Awakens No More; "Friends That Are Gone" It Can Never Restore; Yet E'En To The Mourner One Hope It May Bring, 'Tis The Type Of Eternity'S Glorious Spring.