Spring Gladness
By John Burroughs
Now clap your hands together,
For this is April weather,
And love again is born;
The west wind is caressing,
The turf your feet are pressing
Is thrilling to the morn.
To see the grass a-greening,
To find each day new meaning
In sky and tree and ground;
To see the waters glisten,
To linger long, and listen
To every wakening sound!
To feel your nerves a-tingle
By grackle’s strident jingle
Or starling’s brooky call,
Or phcebe’s salutation,
Or sparrow’s proclamation
Atop the garden wall!
The maple trees are thrilling,
Their eager juices spilling
In many a sugar-camp.
I see the buckets gleaming,
I see the smoke and steaming,
I smell the fragrant damp.
The mourning-dove is cooing
The husky crow is wooing,
I hear his raucous vows;
The robin’s breast is glowing,
Warm hues of earth are showing
Behind the early plows.
I love each April token
And every word that’s spoken
In field or grove or vale,—
The hyla’s twilight chorus,
The clanging geese that o’er us
Keep well the northern trail.
Oh, soon with heaping measures
The spring will bring her treasures
To gladden every breast;
The sky with warmth a-beaming,
The earth with love a-teeming —
In life itself new zest!
