Whence it is, that amazed I hear br From yonder withered spray, br This foremost morn of all the year, br The melody of May? br br And why, since thousands would be proud br Of such a favour shown, br Am I selected from the crowd br To witness it alone? br br Sing'st thou, sweet Philomel, to me, br For that I also long br Have practised in the groves like thee, br Though not like thee in song? br br Or sing'st thou rather under force br Of some divine command, br Commissioned to presage a course br Of happier days at hand? br br Thrice welcome then! for many a long br And joyless year have I, br As thou to-day, put forth my song br Beneath a wintry sky. br br But Thee no wintry skies can harm, br Who only need'st to sing, br To make even January charm, br And every season Spring.