William Wordsworth - To My Sister lyrics

It's the first mild day of March Each minute sweeter than before The redbreast sings from the tall larch That stands beside our door There is a blessing in the air Which seems a sense of joy to yield To the bare trees, and mountains bare And gra** in the green field O my sister, 'tis a wish of mine Now that our morning meal is done Make haste, your morning task resign Come forth and feel the sun