Grand Haven Daily Tribune  May 10, 1900

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Spring is Here.

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BY DAVID FLETCHER HUNTON.

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The grass revives on hill and plain,

The insect young on wings appear;

The swelling, anxious buds, again

Awake to greet the purple year;

The warblers from the sunny south,

Now sing with voices sweet and clear;

We seem to hear from every mouth,

“The spring is here!  The spring is here!”

The bees come out, and try their wings.

The brooks and rills are free again;

The whippoorwill at evening sings,

And “spring is here,” is her refrain;

The little calves and lambkins play

Upon the meadow’s broad area;

And could they talk, they all would say,

“We do rejoice that spring is here!”

Each blade of grass, and spike of fern,

The red’ning maples on the lawn;

The jassamine, that soon will burn,

Are basking in the season’s dawn:

The soul of every sleeping flower,

Now feels its resurrection near;

It struggles upward, hour by hour,

Until it finds that spring is here.

We see Aurora’s ruddy arms,

Lifted above the coming day;

Painting the east in all those charms,

Which beautify the King’s highway:

The crocus lifts its dewy head,

And sees the voices blossoming near:

The snow drop rises from its bed,

Saying, “Good morning, spring is here.”

When stout Aeolus shakes the land,

Spring comes, and smiles his strength away

She takes the giant by the hand,

And coaxes him his power to stay:

The clouds are glad, and weep for joy,

The sun shines brighter and more clear:

The barefoot girl and barefoot boy,

Are happy, for the spring is here!

The daisies hear the voice of spring,

And come with faces fair and sweet;

To greet the children at their play,

And kiss their rosy dimpled feet:

Within the thickening woods today

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Some fair-eyed dryad, too, may say,

“Behold, the lovely spring is here.”

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Comes down to usher in the night;

The train of Venus leads the way,

Like a great diamond, full of light:

The swallows twittering in the waves,

The nightingale sings soft and clear;

The robin for her old nest grieves,

And still, she’s glad that spring is here.

The turtle, to her homely mate,

Says, “Come along, the way is clear”;

The blue jay sings on yonder gate,

A welcome to the budding year;

The south wind fans the breathing land,

And whispers softly in its ear.

“The hills and plains, and mountains grand,

Rejoices to know that spring is here!”

What through the skies in anger frown?

And if the storm king’s mighty hand,

Hurls the awful lightning down;

And thunder shakes the pleasant land!

The clouds are weeping tears of joy,

And skies are brighter and more clear;

The mountain streams the storms enjoy,

And wildly dance, for spring is here.

The sweet arbutus smiles today,

Above its leafy, melting bed;

The dandelion, blithe and gay,

Comes up to show its golden head:

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And will bring his Quaker wife;

She’s patient and will stay at home,

But he will lead a merry life!

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Will we find fairer flowers in heaven,

When time’s last cycles cease to roll?

What sweeter songs will there be given,

When spring eternal clothes the soul?

O, type of that transforming spring,

When “weakness shall be raised in power:”

When death shall lose its mortal sting,

And life immortal crowns the hour!

Grand Haven, Mich.

Easter Sunday, 1900