Thou yellow trumpeter of laggard Spring!
           Thou herald of rich Summer’s myriad 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, sweeping 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 gust of wind to-day,
          To-morrow jewelled with raindrops.  Always bold
           To stand erect, full in the dazzling play
          Of April's sun, for thou hast caught his gold.