It was in the prime
Of the sweet Spring-time
  In the linnet's throat
  Trembled the love-note,
And the love-stirred air
Thrilled the blossoms there.
  Little shadows danced,
    Each a tiny elf,
  Happy in large light
    And the thinnest self. 

It was but a minute
  In a far-off Spring,
  But each gentle thing,
Sweetly-wooing linnet,
  Soft-thrilled hawthorn-tree,
    Happy shadowy elf,
    With the thinnest self,
  Live on still in me.
It was in the prime
Of the past Spring-time!