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Title: Spring
Author: James Avis Bartley [
More Titles by Bartley]
Now, Mary fair, the Spring has come,
Back to our fairyland,
And buds begin to breathe perfume,
The breeze blows sweet and bland;
The gay, green groves are ringing clear,
The crystal waters shine;
Now, Mary sweet, the scene is dear,
The moments are divine.
And, Mary, hearken how the birds
Are courting in the grove,
Oh! listen how their music words
Speak tender things of love.
Let us be happy, Mary fair,
We waste these heavenly hours,
Let's rove where fragrance fills the air,
Among the opening flowers.
Yes, Mary dear, let's quit the throng,
And from the tumult flee,
The birds these living bowers among,
Shall sweetly sing for thee;
And happy zephyr wave his wing,
And streams make melody,
And loveliest flowers gaily spring
Thy matchless face to see.
Dear Mary, why, why should we stay,
While Nature calls us forth?
See! love and pleasure, smiling, stray,
O'er all the gladsome earth!
While all around is mirth and song,
Let us be joyful, too,
And, listening to the feathered throng,
Our vows of love renew.
[The end]
James Avis Bartley's poem: Spring
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