Mrs. Felicia Dorothea Hemans (1793–1835)

O FESTAL Spring! ’midst thy victorious glow,

Far-spreading o’er the kindled woods and plains,

And streams that bound to meet thee from thy chains,

Well might there lurk the shadow of a woe

For human hearts, and in the exulting flow

Of thy rich songs a melancholy tone,

Were we of mould all earthly; we alone,

Severed from thy great spell, and doomed to go

Farther, still farther, from our sunny time,

Never to feel the breathings of our prime,

Never to flower again!—But we, O Spring!

Cheered by deep whispers not of earth,

Press to the regions of thy heavenly birth,

As here thy flowers and birds press on to bloom and sing.