When Tulips Bloom

 I 

When tulips bloom in Union Aquare, 
And timid breaths of vernal air 
Go wandering down the dusty town, 
Like children lost in Vanity Fair; 

When every long, unlovely row 
Of westward houses stands aglow, 
And leads the eyes to sunset skies 
Beyond the hills where green trees grow; 

Then wearly seems the street parade, 
And weary books, and weary trade: 
I'm only wishing to go a-fishing; 
For this the month of May was made. 

II 

I guess the pussy-willows now 
Are creeping out on every bough 
Along the brook; and robins look 
For early worms behind the plough. 

The thistle-birds have changed their dun, 
For yellow coats, to match the sun; 
And in the same array of flame 
The Dandelion Show's begun. 

The flocks of young anemones 
Are dancing round the budding trees: 
Who can help wishing to go a-fishing 
In days as full of joy as these? 

III 

I think the meadow-lark's clear sound 
Leaks upward slowly from the ground, 
While on the wing the bluebirds ring 
Their wedding-bells to woods around. 

The flirting chewink calls his dear 
Behind the bush; and very near, 
Where water flows, where green grass grows, 
Song-sparrows gently sing, "Good cheer." 

And, best of all, through twilight's calm 
The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm. 
How mush I'm wishing to go a-fishing 
In days so sweet with music's balm! 

IV 

'Tis not a proud desire of mine; 
I ask for nothing superfine; 
No heavy weight, no salmon great, 
To break the record, or my line. 

Only an idle little stream, 
Whose amber waters softly gleam, 
Where I may wade, through woodland shade, 
And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream: 

Only a trout or two, to dart 
>From foaming pools, and try my art: 
'Tis all I'm wishing--old-fashioned fishing, 
And just a day on Nature's heart.

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