Over the hills of April br With soft winds hand in hand, br Impassionate and dreamy-eyed, br Spring leads her saraband. br Her garments float and gather br And swirl along the plain, br Her headgear is the golden sun, br Her cloak the silver rain. br br With colour and with music, br With perfumes and with pomp, br By meadowland and upland, br Through pasture, wood, and swamp, br With promise and enchantment br Leading her mystic mime, br She comes to lure the world anew br With joy as old as time. br br Quick lifts the marshy chorus br To transport, trill on trill; br There's not a rod of stony ground br Unanswering on the hill. br The brooks and little rivers br Dance down their wild ravines, br And children in the city squares br Keep time, to tambourines. br br The blue bird in the orchard br Is lyrical for her, br The starling with his meadow pipe br Sets all the wood astir, br The hooded white spring-beauties br Are curtsying in the breeze, br The blue hepaticas are out br Under the chestnut trees. br The maple buds make glamour br Vibernum waves its bloom, br The daffodils and tulips br Are risen from the tomb. br The lances of narcissus br Have pierced the wintry mold; br The commonplace seems paradise br To veils of greening gold. br br O hark, hear thou the summons, br Put every grief away, br When all the motley masques of earth br Are glad upon a day.