Spring is come; bright glances dart
In the tulip’s bowl of fire;
Thousand thousand sighs upspire
From each several ember’s heart.

Pour a stcup of ruby glow
O’er the garden’s dusty bed;
Strange and shy, in autumn’s 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.