Marvels of Spring

All along the woodland’s edge Runs a star be-spangled hedge, Where the dogwood blossoms scatter Snowy flakes among the sedge, And about it waves a line In a marvelous design, Of azaleas, gayly flaunting Feathered crowns of rose and wine.

Down below that hedge, serene In their bowers safe and green, Violets, perhaps, were peeping At the wonders to be seen, When the swelling buds uncurled, And the sprites of spring unfurled, Dainty fabrics for the garments Of a naked, wintry world.

Every brier, bush, and tree Sports an emerald mantle, free; Some adorned with drooping tassels— Some with flower embroidery; And the fields have all unrolled Gorgeous robes of green and gold, Where the dandelions flourish In the deep and mellow mold.

Satin clad, the willows dip Into streams that gaily slip Underneath their drooping branches On some joy-laden trip; While the rushes, growing low, Wear a richer, darker glow As they revel in caresses From the waves that onward flow.