SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy fire,
Hoar Winter's blooming child ; delightful Spring !
 Whose unshorn locks with leaves
 And swelling buds are crowned ;

From the green islands of eternal youth,
(Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever springing shade,)
 Turn, hither turn thy step,
 O thou, whose powerful voice

More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed,
Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding winds, 
 And thro' the stormy deep 
 Breathe thy own tender calm.

Thee, best belov'd ! the virgin train await 
With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove 
 Thy blooming wilds among, 
 And vales and dewy lawns,

With untir'd feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets 
To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow 
 Of him, the favour'd youth 
 That prompts their whisper'd sigh.

Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers
That drop their sweetness on the infant buds, 
 And silent dews that swell 
 The milky ear's green stem.

And feed the slowering osier's early shoots ;
And call those winds which thro' the whispering boughs
 With warm and pleasant breath 
 Salute the blowing flowers.

Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ;
 And watch with patient eye 
 Thy fair unfolding charms.

O nymph approach ! while yet the temperate sun
With bashful forehead, thro' the cool moist air
 Throws his young maiden beams,
 And with chaste kisses woes

The earth's fair bosom ; while the streaming veil
Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade 
 Protect thy modest blooms 
 From his severer blaze.

Sweet is thy reign, but short ; The red dog-star
Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe
 Thy greens, thy flow'rets all,
 Remorseless shall destroy.

Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewel ;
For O, not all the Autumn's lap contains,
 Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
 Can aught for thee atone

Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights
Than all their largest wealth, and thro' the heart
 Each joy and new-born hope
 With softest influence breathes.