Spring
Infant Spirit of the Spring!
On thy fresh-plumed pinion, bring
Snow-drops like thy stainless brow —
Violet, primrose — cull them now,
With the cup of daffodil,
Which the fairies love to fill,
Ere each moon dance they renew,
With the fragrant honey dew;
Bring them, Spirit! — bring them hither
Ere the wind have time to wither;
Or the sun to steal their dyes,
To paint, at eve, the western skies,
Bring them for the wreath of one —
Fairest, best, that Time hath known.
Infant Spirit! dreams have told
Of thy golden hours of old,
When the amaranth was flung
O'er creation bright and young;
When the wind had sweeter sound
Than holiest lute-string since hath found;
When the sigh of angels sent
Fragrance through the firmament:
Then thy glorious gifts were shed
O'er full many a virgin head:
Of those forms of beauty, none
Gladden now this earth, save one!
Hither, then, thy blossoms bring,
Infant Spirit of the Spring!
~~
R. (fl. 1837)
from Friendship's Offering, 1837
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
This poem has sometimes been attributed to John Ruskin (1819-1900). However, E.T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn write in the introduction to volume II (Poems) of The Works of John Ruskin (London: George Allen, 1903, xxxvii):
"Owing to the fact that Ruskin's early contributions to periodical literature were not signed with his name, but only with his initials, pieces written by other persons are sometimes attributed to him. In an American edition of his poems a piece entitled "Spring," and beginning "Infant spirit of the Spring," is included. It appeared in Friendship's Offering for 1837, pp. 383-384, where it is signed "R". Ruskin, however, stated that he certainly did not write it."
https://archive.org/details/worksofjohnruski02rusk/page/n45
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