University of Virginia Library


62

SPRING.

See! the anguish of Earth with Winter closes—
The wet cold tears and the crowns of thorn;
And Spring lights the flames of the pale primroses,
Dim like to torch-fires at flush of morn:
For Spring walks forth with a brand fresh-lighted,
Touching each spot where the flowers are few;
And those that by Winter were quench'd or blighted
Kindle and burst into flame anew.
And all gentle sounds, to the hour belonging,
From her feet and her forehead are softly shed,
And wafts of sweet odours, the mild air thronging,
Mix till the sense is bewilderèd.

63

She has call'd to the streams, and they answer faintly,
Not quite unafraid of the frost's fierce lip;
Yet they laugh to themselves as they follow her gently,
For gladness of her sweet fellowship.
Then the old Earth wakes from her sleep of horror,
And her heart, like the youngest, beats fresh and new;
For she knows that the long sweet Summer is before her,
Summer, and the gold-hair'd Autumn too.
Yes, the wail and the anguish of Earth now closes:
Who doubts, let him hear what the black-bird saith:
For Spring gets more joy than Winter loses,
When God wakes the flowers from their dream of death.