AT THE WINDOW.

I HEARD the woodpecker pecking,

The bluebird tenderly sing;

I turned and looked out of the window,

And, lo! it was spring.

A breath from tropical borders,

Just a ripple, flowed into my room,

And washed my face clean of its sadness,

Blew my heart into bloom.

The loves I have kept for a lifetime,

Sweet buds I have shielded from snow,

Break forth into full leaf and tassel

When spring winds do blow.

For the sap of my life goes upward,

Obeying the same sweet law

That waters the heart of the maple

After a thaw.

I forget my old age, and grow youthful,

Bathing in wind-tides of spring,

When I hear the woodpecker pecking,

The first bluebird sing.

Atlantic Monthly.