Warble me now for joy of lilac-time,

    (returning in reminiscence,)

Sort me O tongue and lips for Nature’s sake,

    souvenirs of earliest summer,

     Gather the welcome signs,

(as children with pebbles or stringing shells,)

Put in April and May, the hylas croaking in the ponds,

     the elastic air,

   Bees, butterflies, the sparrow with its simple notes,

           Blue bird and darting swallow,

   nor forget the high-hole flashing his golden wings,

The tranquil sunny haze, the clinging smoke, the vapor,

       Shimmer of waters with fish in them,

  the cerulean above,

  All that is jocund and sparkling, the brooks running,

               The maple woods,

     the crisp February days and the sugar-making,

The robin where he hops, bright-eyed, brown-breasted,

With musical clear call at sunrise, and again at sunset,

  Or flitting among the trees of the

apple-orchard, building the nest of his Mate,

The melted snow of March, the willow

   sending forth its yellow-green prouts,

For spring-time is here! The summer

  Is here! And what is this in it and From it?

    Thou, soul, unloosened the

restlessness after I know net what;

Come, let us lag here no longer, let

       us be up and away!

 if one could but fly like a bird!

 to escape, to sail forth as in a ship!

To glide with the soul, over all, in

  all as a ship over the waters;

Gathering these hints, the preludes,

The blue sky, the grass, the morning

          drops of dew,

The lilac-scent, the bushes with dark

    green heart-shaped leaves,

Wood-violets, the little delicate pale

    blossoms called innocence,

Samples and sorts not for themselves

  alone, but for their atmosphere,

To grace the bush I love to sing

        With the birds,

A warble for joy of lilac-time,

returning in reminiscence.