The sun is bright,—the air is clear
The darting swallows soar and sing
And from the stately elms I hear
The blue-bird prophesying Spring

So blue yon winding river flows
It seems an outlet from the sky
Where waiting till the west wind blows
The freighted clouds at anchor lie

All things are new;—the buds, the leaves
That gild the elm-tree's nodding crest
And even the nest beneath the eaves;—
Therе are no birds in last year's nest!

All things rеjoice in youth and love
The fullness of their first delight!
And learn from the soft heavens above
The melting tenderness of night

Maiden, that read'st this simple rhyme
Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay;
Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime
For O! it is not always May!

Enjoy the Spring of Love and Youth
To some good angel leave the rest;
For Time will teach thee soon the truth
There are no birds in last year's nest!