Spring has arriv'd and throws her garland round'
O'er hill and dale' the varied buds are found;
O'er fields, o'er woods, her sweet perfume she bears,
And every grove in partial beauty wears.
The blue birds fly, to catch the waving flower,
And sing, and twitter in the garden bower;
While wakeful turtles, sing in all our groves,
And warbling songsters meet their happy loves.
Sky, air, and water, give the zephyrs breath,
And warmer suns refresh the smiling heath;
The sighing winds are in the distance heard,
And softer breezes now become endear'd.
Hope now selects a myrtle, fast entwin'd
With blushing roses, in her wreath to bind;
And near her cottage, hangs the lonely flowers,
Which bloom in beauty—bless'd with April showers.
All nature smiles, delighted, with a blush
On every shrub, on every thorny bush;
The varied tinge of glowing beauties rise,
While in the tuft, the hidden violet lies.
So when the winter of the tomb is o'er,
And cruel death has power to kill no more;
Then we may rise to the perennial spring,
That brings immortal praises to our King.
