To Fredericton in May-Time

This morning, full of breezes and perfume,
  Brimful of promise of midsummer weather,
  When bees and birds and I are glad together,
Breathes of the full-leaved season, when soft gloom
Chequers thy streets, and thy close elms assume
  Round roof and spire the semblance of green billows;
  Yet now thy glory is the yellow willows,
The yellow willows, full of bees and bloom.

Under their dusty blossoms blackbirds meet,
  And robins pipe amid the cedars nigher.
Thro' the still elms I hear the ferry's beat.
  The swallows chirp about the towering spire;
The whole air pulses with its weight of sweet,
  Yet not quite satisfied is my desire!