JT-27-THE VERNAL SEASON.

THE VERNAL SEASON.

Farewell, thou stormy rig’rous blast,
Your gloomy horrors now are past,
And all your frowns seren’d at last,
By smiles of lovely spring.
From orient realms the vernal sun,
Appears again--the prize is won,
His cheerful beams reviving run,
And make creation sing.

The torpid insects move again,
Forget the gripe of winter’s chain,
And scatter o’er the smiling plain,
And tell their modes of joy;
A thousand notes of music sweet,
Resound aloud from each retreat,
With one accord the songsters meet,
And all their tongues employ.

The savage beasts of fiercer flame,
The herds and flocks of ev’ry name,
Their various joys aloud proclaim,
While sounding anthems swell;
The far sequestered forests join,
The heaths and meadows all combine,
And sound aloud the hymn divine,
The God of nature tell.

Unnumbered charms attract the sight,
The purple, blue and spotless white,
That dress all nature with delight,
Inflame my ravish’d soul;
The umbrage of the distant trees,
The pinks awaken’d by the breeze,
The blushing rose, well formed to please,
My senses sweet control.

The orchards smile in fragrant bloom,
The desert wastes their flowers assume,
And wanton zephyrs waft perfume,
Along the passing air;
The lofty mountains ope their green,
The low sunk vales that lie between,
Put on the beauty of the scene,
And wave enchantment there.

Let stoic hearts conjoin to sing,
The parent of returning spring,
And mount on soft, celestial wing,
Above the earthly clod;
Let nature teach their souls to raise
Unceasing thanks and songs of praise,
And mingle in harmonic lays,
To their Creator God.

The scene how like the vernal years,
When youth in every face appears,
And nought to start the trickling tears,
Nor cause the rising sigh;
The rapt’rous prospects wide extend,
While hope and joy each other blend,
The flattered youth desires no end,
And thinks no blasts are nigh.

Remember that the rose will fade,
And all the beauty of the glade,
With all the foliage of the shade,
Shall droop and die again;
So may the fondest, blooming face,
The object of an am’rous race,
Soon wither into cold disgrace,
And heave the heart in pain.

Temptations haunt the female’s way,
By chance the fondest passions may
Allure to danger, quite astray,
O youth, be well aware;
Be modest, virtuous--ever try,
Trust not the fancy of your eye,
Lest from your heart your comfort fly,
And leave a sorrow there.

Behold the time is drawing near,
When transient charms shall disappear,
Again all nature shall be drear,
And chant no more to you;
Endure a chaste and virtuous toil,
Enjoy the season with a smile,
And take a large immortal spoil,
For that shall be your due.