At the Hyla's Call

The things the sun and the south wind do

When the green o' the year is peeping through,

And Joy is abroad, and the dancing hours

Know only the clocks of the leaves and flowers!

When the squirrel-cups are brimming with rain,

When blackbirds are come and the needly grain;

When the ribbon-snake slips from his dismal house

To the nest of the bird and the nest of the mouse;

In the thick of the meadow and greenwood smells,

Of the minstrelsy by the willowed wells;

By the brook, and the bridge of lichened log,

With the darting trout and the vaulting frog;

By the upland bunches the rabbit knows

Ere the great sun comes, when the great sun goes;

Along warm walls where ivies bind

And braid the sunshine and weave the wind,—

It's to rouse and go forth at the hyla's call,

It's to learn the sweet secrets, one and all:

It's to follow him with the locks love-curled,

To wander with Joy to the end of the world.