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Spy now the threshold to the spring
The Hazel catkin’s yellowing!
So hang the the tassled pollen setting
And wafts the wind the grains begetting
September’s kerns from silvered boughs;
How barely seen her scarlet flowers!
Spy golden rings, red berried bills,
And hear staccato notes and shrill!
The Blackbird bobbing head to tail
Raising his song as winter's fail
Though the var’ety the Song Thrush throats
Yet prettier still the Blackbird’s notes;
Now spring-tide’s thawed the frosts of earth
He sings my joy for all he's worth!