Camildhu — Spring in Philadelphia County

Spring in Philadelphia County -Apostrophe to the Loxia Cardinalis- Crested bird of plumage red Com'st to see is winter fled? Inciter to the farmer's toil, Welcome to our grateful soil! Yet still the frost endures the morn Spangles the swamp and studs the thorn, Its brilliant gems on every bush, Unmelting, slight Aurora's blush; Still inform us Sol is sleeping. Pretty bird of plumage red Thou stayst!--then sure is winter fled. Quickly the cold dispels. Each stream Swells high with joy. What fishes teem Swift ascending from the sea, To bathe in fresh variety. Our steady sunshine warmer glowing, Light more flaval round us throwing Glads our eyes, and sprights the veins Of our misses, and our swains. Pretty bird of plumage red Thou bidest here, and winter's fled. Now smoothly roll your giant tides Rivers of freedom! safely rides The anchor'd vessel; joyous sounds The "yoe heave oh," along your bounds, The sailor bending o'er the yard, Gaily performs his toil so hard. And soon descend with swelling sails Favoured by Zephyr's steadying gales Fleets of gallant merchantmen From the prospering town of Penn, No icy rocks the waves now bear Destructive of the pilot's care. Pretty bird of plumage red Well notest thou the winter's fled. To where rough cataracts impede, Now the shoaling shad proceed With -herrings- sporting in their van Thicker and broader in the span, Than those which seek old Scotia's soil And freer from the cloying oil. Truly like herring they appear Though but the shad-fry of last year. The catfish follow swift in train Sweeter than eel, than eel more sane, And even rockfish, quit the caves Of Neptune, for our river waves. Pretty bird of plumage red Thou seekst to work they hymen bed. Thou sweetly singst thou pretty bird, The joys the fields to all afford! Thou weetst some notes of nightingale, But dost not mock sweet Philomel; She bashful seeks the veiled recess And boasts nor chatt'ring nor proud dress; She joys to charm the hours of rest, Ah, modest muse, that soothst my breast! Pretty bird of plumage red, Thou boldly singst, and winter's fled. Now, as the snows retire, in russet hue, Appears the herb that loves the dew; Carpet of Nature! soon thy velvet blades The tint of Hope, fresh green pervades Though in our winter, frozen down To garb of summer's scorched brown: Rapid the sweet nutritious sap Spreads gayest robes o'er Nature's lap, Robes that for emerald bright dont yield, Even to Erin's shambrac field. Pretty bird of plumage red, Thou wooest safe, for winter's fled. And see the forests spread their bloom! Scent we the fruit-trees' sweet perfume. First of this free lands Spring, I hail thy birth! Gift of the land of Eden to this western earth, Aurorean peach! thy chearful bloom above Brings to my soul the tints of her I love. WIth thee, the gentle Amadee may vie, Nymph of the modest blush and lustral eye. Now drops of light on germs of life appear, Hah! next the weeping willow greets the year; Yet gossamers 'mid its boughs are strung, And time, revived, again looks young.