The Coming of Spring

How I have watched thy coming, Spring,

From back in March, thy first-born day,

When smiles, all meaningless and strange,

Would twist thy face and pass away;

Such as will cross the faces of

Our babes before they grow to love,

Or wonder at the new-made light-

To this, thy great, all-smiling hour,

When thou hast soul and sight.

How I have waited for this day,

When thou, sweet Spring, art three weeks’ old;

And I can hear that strange, sweet voice,

To seal the wonder of thy world;

That lifts the heart of old and young

To sing an echo to that song

Which cries “cuckoo” in every grove;

When I, who did but smile before,

Must laugh outright for love.