Shayari Bazar

Now that the winters gone, the earth hath lostHer snow-white robes, and now no more the frostCandies the grass, or casts an icy creamUpon the silver lake or crystal stream;But the warm sun thaws the benumbed earth,And makes it tender; gives a sacred birthTo the dead swallow; wakes in hollow treeThe drowsy cuckoo and the humble-bee.Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bringIn triumph to the world the youthful spring.