The wind on the wold,
With sea-scents and sea-dreams attended,
Is wine!
The air is as gold
In elixir — it takes so the splendid
Sunshine!
O, the larks in the blue!
How the song of them glitters, and glances,
And gleams!
The old music sounds new —
And it's O, the wild Spring, and his chances
And dreams!
There's a lift in the blood —
O, this gracious, and thirsting, and aching
Unrest!
All life's at the bud,
And my heart, full of April, is breaking
My breast.