The New Hampshire Gazette

From the Charleston (S. C.) Rose Bud.

ADDRESS TO SPRING.

O gentle Spring! I woo thy balmy breath;
Like some fond lover waiting for his bride;
I long to meet thee on the sunny heath,
And roam with thee where murmuring waters glide.

Thou art a friend to me, pure peaceful Spring,
My pulses beat with joy when thou art near,
With thee the song of gratitude I sing,
To thee I tell what mortals must not hear.

Thou hast a thousand voices—soft and sweet,
And loud, and thrilling is thy minstrelsy;
The little birds their lay of love repeat,
And distant thunders join their symphony.

Fair and attractive is thy modesty,
Sweet Spring, arrayed in choice and tasteful green,
No glaring colors pain the gazer's eye,
Even when in all thy wondrous beauty seen.

Thou hast a bouquet trembling on thy breast,
Its sweet perfume is shed on all the air,
And, oh! the glorious flower thou lovest best,
The clustering jessamine floats sweetly there.

Where art thou? Is thy rosy garland lost,
And are the pretty flowers thou lovest dead?
Art thou afraid to meet the chilling frost?
Lo! when thou breathest, frost and snows are fled.

'Tis time that thou wert here—old Winter now
Has tarried with us long—with reverence due
I love his whitened locks and wrinkled brow,
But sweet, enchanting Spring, I love thee too.

My young heart calls thee—listen to its voice,
And throw thy budding wreath around thy head
Come dancing in the season of thy choice,
Earth smiles rejoiced to feel thy lightest tread.