“O primavera! Gioventit dell’ anno.”

The first warm buds that break their covers,
   The first young twigs that burst in green,
The first blade that the sun discovers,
   Starting the loosened earth between.

The pale soft sky, so clear and tender,
   With little clouds that break and fly;
The crocus, earliest pretender
   To the low breezes passing by;

The chirp and twitter of brown builders,
   A couple in a tree, at least;
The watchful wisdom of the elders
   For callow younglings in the nest;

The flush of branches with fair blossoms,
   The deepening of the faint green boughs,
As leaf by leaf the crown grows fuller
   That binds the young Spring’s rosy brows;

New promise every day of sweetness,
   The next bright dawn is sure to bring;
Slow breaking into green completeness,
   Fresh rapture of the early Spring!

“Spring Song” by Edith Wharton