Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard1 Spring!
Thou herald2 of rich Summer's myriad3 flowers!
The climbing sun with new recovered powers
Does warm thee into being, through the ring
Of rich, brown earth he woos thee, makes thee fling
Thy green shoots up, inheriting the dowers
Of bending sky and sudden, sweeping4 showers,
Till ripe and blossoming thou art a thing
To make all nature glad, thou art so gay;
To fill the lonely with a joy untold;
Nodding at every gust5 of wind to-day,
To-morrow jewelled with raindrops. Always bold
To stand erect6, full in the dazzling play
Of April's sun, for thou hast caught his gold.
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