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79
A LAGGARD SPRING
The winter tarried and the spring was late,And still from wild waste lands to northward blew
The gale that stiffened nightly all the brooks
Which fed the rivers flowing past the cliffs
Of lonely cloud-swept mountains to the sea;
And all the people wearied of the cold,
And all the fields were crying for the sun.
But when the mid-March weeks were past there came
A wind from southern lands that vanquished quite
The hosts of winter. All its snows rushed down
In stormful spates, to spread themselves upon
The level meads that lay beside the streams
That in the summer shrank to silver threads
Or lost themselves amid the green, but now
Were one wide water, for the spring had come!
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