He calls in song upon ribbons of scent’d apple blossom and pine-
Which bathe forth thro’ my sill, awaiting
Breast vest'd like sand, and a sky hued cape -
He presents himself with utmost right!
His visit is to bestow a late March gift to me
-A note which shan’t be seen
The gesture of a most humble offering
My messenger is he-
A reminder perch’d low for me to spy
That Spring shall always birth and find us-
If we so choose to believe!
He then stretch’d his ocean arms wide-
And flew back into the mirror'd sky
His gift deliver'd with such profound devotion
The parcel unseen was but a notion of splendor
-Such is the spirit’d kind!
For now as my sights are awaken’d
I shall remember this morn’
And the gift of the mood enchant'd
-To be so divinely blue, as he
