WINTER, that old enchanter, quakes,

Hearing the robin's magic word; 

With fear the wrinkled wizard shakes,

For Heaven has sent the warning bird.

The Shrouds of snow melt into flowers,

Through the dead leaves the primrose comes;

Between the April showers

The swallows dart, the wild bee hums.

Then from the old king's loosened grasp

Expands a little ruffling wind; 

And there flits out that gentle bird, 

The rainbow-colored bird, the Spring.

Ladies' Repository.