Eliza Allen Starr
Comments about Eliza Allen Starr
With the spring come happy voices
On the street,
Merry greetings, infant laughter
Gay and sweet.
With the spring what rush of waters
To the sea!
Brooks run races down the mountains
In their glee.
With the spring come happy odors;
Skies how blue!
Grass- you almost see it growing-
Tipped with dew.
With the spring, on brookside, hillside,
In the glen,
Tangled woodlands, wastes of prairies
Far from men-
Everywhere are wild flowers springing,
Banks of bloom;
Snowy clusters break the bearded