Hail! Beauteous stranger of the grove,
Thou messenger of spring!
Now heav'n repairs thy rural seat,
And woods thy welcome sing.

What time the daisy decks the green,
Thy certain voice we hear;
Hast thou a star to guide thy path,
Or mark the rolling year.

Delightful visitant! With thee
I hail the time of flow'rs,
And hear the sound of music sweet
>From birds among the bow'rs.

The school-boy wand'ring thro' the wood,
To pluck the primrose gay;
Starts the new voice of spring to hear,
And imitates the lay.

What time the pea puts on the bloom,
Thou fliest thy vocal vale;
An annual guest in other lands,
Another spring to hail.

Sweet bird! Thy bow'r  is ever green,
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,
No winter in thy year.

O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make with joyful wing,
Our annual visit o'er the globe,
Companions of the Spring.