 | Poems |  |
80
THE SIMILE.
Lo! in the fickle North fair blooms the Year!Sweet as Kathleen's its summer smiles appear:
Ev'n in its prime, rude-nipped by Winter's breath,
Falls, like Kathleen, into the arms of Death!
On the fresh corpse the pitying skies bestow,
To veil the cold, cold limbs, a pall of snow:
Frost binds it in his adamantine chains,
And the bleak blast sweeps howling o'er the plains!
But soon the Sun with kindlier aspect beams,
The birds bid Spring awaken from her dreams,
O'er all the Land the mild infection creeps,
Morn sheds her tears: the rill, dissolving, weeps:
May strews the fields with many a floweret fair,
Ambrosial odours scent the genial air:
From every charm the girdle is unbound
And Nature reigns by naked beauty crowned!
So, from Death's wintry fangs Kathleen set free,
Springs from the tomb to Immortality!
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