Now let me taste the tones of spring,
The tang of birdsong, as they sing
In liquid lyrics; let me sink
To sup that succulence, and drink.
Now let me hear the hum of flowers,
The trumpet tunes, in country bowers,
Of daffodils. As bluebells ring,
They bid me sense the sounds of spring.
Now let me scent sweet sunrise, bright
And orange in the morning's light,
Sniff honeysuckle of the day
And lemon-smelling sunbeam's ray.
Now let me see dawn turn to noon
As passing hours depart too soon;
They look like leaves curled up in bud
Since autumn dropped down in the wood.
Now let me grasp fresh air, and touch
New life emerging from the clutch
Of winter, where it slept so long.
I want to handle springtime's song.
And as my senses all are roused
By nature which, through winter, drowsed,
I feel and smell and touch and hear
And see the newness that is near.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem