Haste, Maami, the spring is nigh;

  Already, in the unopened flowers

That sleep around us, Fancy's eye

  Can see the blush of future bowers;

And joy it brings to thee and me,

My own beloved Maami!

The streamlet frozen on its way,

  To feed the marble Founts of Kings,

Now, loosened by the vernal ray,

  Upon its path exulting springs—

As doth this bounding heart to thee,

My ever blissful Maami!

Such bright hours were not made to stay;

  Enough if they awhile remain,

Like Irem's bowers, that fade away.

  From time to time, and come again.

And life shall all one Irem be

For us, my gentle Maami.

O haste, for this impatient heart,

  Is like the rose in Yemen's vale,

That rends its inmost leaves apart

  With passion for the nightingale;

So languishes this soul for thee,

My bright and blushing Maami!