No more the peach-tree droops beneath the snow;
      Spring draws her breath the willow boughs among.
      The mango-bird now maddens into song.
And the swift-building swallows come and go. 
'Tis the time ofthe long daydreams, when laughing maybeams.
      On the mats of slothful revellers play;
'Tis the time of glancing wings, and the dancing
      Of moon-moths whirling the hours away;
When the golden armoured guardians are withdrawn.
Andpleasure haunts the rustling woods till dawn.
A warm and perfumed wind
      Strays through the palace blind
And wandering prys into some dim retreat 
      Where every whisper stirs the heart to beat. 
Now all the gey parterres ,
      Are rivals for the sun
That drains their jewelled goblets one by one 
      From dimpled terrace and green dewy stairs. 
And the water-lily renders to the spring
The wonder ofher white unbosoming.
      Far away in the tall woods there is an oriole calling;
There are shadows in the blue pavilion of dancers and music
            rising and fallings
In the month of peach-bloom and plum-bloom, in the silken-
            screened recess 
Love is the burden of sweet voices and the brief night meltings
            and the long caress.