 | Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] |  |
47
TO SPRING.
I
I may not greet thee, smiling Spring,Thou art too joyous,—bright;
Forgotten is my lute's soft tone,
The sunshine from my heart is flown.
II
Thy lap is strown with laughing flow'rs,All nature hails thy birth,
Yet ah! thou bear'st not on thy wing
The raptures of life's early spring.
III
Thy birds are singing in the treesA song of mirth and love;
I only seek a silent cave,
I weep above a loved one's grave.
IV
Ah! 'tis the lot of hearts like mineTo suffer and to die;
I may not share thy gladness—bloom,—
Thou canst not cheer my changeless doom.
| Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] | |