In February

Already the feet of the Winter fly,
And the pulse of the Earth begins to leap,
Waking up from her frozen sleep,
And knowing the beautiful Spring is nigh.

Good Saint Valentine wanders by,
Pausing his festival gay to keep;
Already the feet of the Winter fly,
And the pulse of the Earth begins to leap.

To life she wakes; and a smile and a sigh—
Language the scoffer holds so cheap—
Thrill her with melody dear and deep.
Spring, with its mating time is nigh;
Already the feet of the Winter fly,
And the pulse of the Earth begins to leap.