Spring is come; bright glances dart
In the tulips bowl of fire;
Thousand thousand sighs upspire
From each several embers heart.
Pour a stcup of ruby glow
Oer the gardens dusty bed;
Strange and shy, in autumns dread,
Tulip and narcissus grow.
Hue-and-scent world fills thine eyes;
What the heart is, knowest thou?
Tis a moon, that round its brow
Casts a halo of the skies.