First Bright Days.
- WHEN the skies are getting bluer and the fields
- are getting green,
- When the bud upon the maple is beginning to be
- seen__
- Where the willows sweep the water there's a flash
- of silver light,
- For the bud is on the maple and the fish begin
- to bite.
- Then the world is getting ready for the blossom
- of the spring;
- The sun is creeping northward and the wild duck
- following,
- And every day is clipping off a piece from every
- night,
- When the bud is on the maple and the fish begin
- to bite.
- Oh, days when first the sun breaks through and
- warms the heart to peace!
- Oh, days when men grow young again and half
- their troubles cease!
- Oh, days when every germ of hope is pushing to
- the light,
- And the bud is on the maple and the fish begin
- to bite.
__Albert Bigelow Paine.
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