In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the

robin's breast;

In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself

another crest;

In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the

burnish'd dove:

In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly

turns to thoughts of love.

Then her cheek was pale and thinner than

should be for one so young,

And her eyes on all my motions with a mute

observance hung.

And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak

the truth to me,

Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being

sets to thee."

On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color

and a light,

As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the

Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they

should do me wrong";

Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weep

ing, "I have loved thee long."

Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it

in his glowing hands;

Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in

golden sands.

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on

all the chords with might;

Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd

in music out of sight.