May arrives with bursts of buds, leafing trees, and a fragrant breeze that seems to call the speaker outward, as if spring itself is a holiday. The word “again” hints that this invitation returns every year, and she feels it deeply—yet her response is not simple joy. A stream keeps flowing through mist toward some tryst, full of purpose and direction. The streamlet’s “unending song” sounds confident, almost as if it knows where it is going. The speaker, by contrast, experiences strong inner surges but no clear outlet. The day feels incomplete, and she longs for something unnamed. The poem creates a mood of restless beauty: spring is alive and promising, but that very aliveness sharpens a sense of absence or waiting. Everything around her moves toward meeting and fulfillment, while she remains suspended in a desire that has no name or destination.
Springtime — Summary
Again it is the vibrant May, The bursting buds, the leafing trees, The fragrant, undulating breeze, Call to my heart in subtlest way: Come! Come! it is a holiday.
The streamlet with unending song, Beneath its silver veil of mist Seems flowing, flowing, to some tryst, While I—with inner surges strong, Find incomplete the day, and long.