University of Virginia Library

XXXII.

Flower-weeping April starts to life again,
When arch October for November weaves
A wedding garment in a shroud of tears.
'Tis made of pearlets splinter'd from the rain;
Or dewdrops shaken from the nodding spears

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That guard the cold roots of the bare blackthorn;
And flowers (like April's) hasten to adorn
Its mix'd hues, won from sunset. Through fall'n leaves
The primrose peeps! homed where the wren abides;
The violet, too! that would be loved, yet hides
Her beauty, dark with passion; and the whin,
Pale want's rough friend, laughs out to all “Good Morrow,”
And calls no child of woe a child of sin,
But, April-blossom'd, hoards a smile for sorrow.