O BABBLING Spring, than glass more clear, br Worthy of wreath and cup sincere, br To-morrow shall a kid be thine br With swelled and sprouting brows for sign,— br Sure sign!—of loves and battles near. br br Child of the race that butt and rear! br Not less, alas! his life-blood dear br Must tinge thy cold wave crystalline, br O babbling Spring! br br Thee Sirius knows not. Thou dost cheer br With pleasant cool the plough-worn steer,— br The wandering flock.