Spring Or where, like those strange semblances we find That age to childhood bind, The elm puts on, as if in Nature's scorn, The brown of Autumn corn. As yet the turf is dark, although you know A thousand germs are groping through the gloom, And soon will burst their tomb. Already, here and there, on frailest stems Appear some azure gems, Small as might deck, upon a gala day, The forehead of a fay. In gardens you may note amid the dearth, The crocus breaking earth; And near the snowdrop's tender white and green, But many gleams and shadows needs must pass And weeks go by, before the enamored South Shall kiss the rose's mouth. Still there's a sense of blossoms yet unborn In the sweet airs of morn; One almost looks to see the very street Grow purple at his feet. At times a fragrant breeze comes floating by, And brings, you know not why, A feeling as when eager crowds await Before a palace gate 1345 Some wondrous pageant; and you scarce would start, If from a beech's heart A blue-eyed Dryad, stepping forth, should say, "Behold me! I am May!" Henry Timrod [1829-1867] THE MEADOWS IN SPRING 'TIS a dull sight To see the year dying, Set the yellow wood sighing: When such a time cometh, I do retire Into an old room Beside a bright fire: Oh, pile a bright fire! And there I sit Reading old things, Of knights and lorn damsels, While the wind sings- I never look out Nor attend to the blast; For all to be seen Is the leaves falling fast: But close at the hearth, Like a cricket, sit I, Reading of summer And chivalry Gallant chivalry! Then with an old friend I talk of our youth! How 'twas gladsome, but often Foolish, forsooth: But gladsome, gladsome! Or to get merry We sing some old rhyme, That made the wood ring again In summer time Sweet summer time! WHEN wintry weather's all a-done, Upon the boughs the buds o' spring,- A-vield wi' health an' zunsheen. Vor then the cowslip's hangèn flower Do grow wi' vi'lets, sweet o' smell, The thorns, while they do zing their zong An' God do meäke his win' to blow To hear our mwoan an' zee our tear, An' many times when I do vind An' hear the zingen o' the birds, Do soothe my sorrow more than words; Do meäke woone's soul so dark 'ithin, When God would gi'e woone zunsheen. William Barnes [1801-1886] "WHEN SPRING COMES BACK TO ENGLAND" WHEN Spring comes back to England And crowns her brows with May, Round the merry moonlit world She goes the greenwood way: She throws a rose to Italy, "Over the Wintry Threshold When Spring comes back to England But England is the Queen; She's Queen, she's Queen of all the world Beneath the laughing sky, For the nations go a-Maying When they hear the New Year cry— "Come over the water to England, Come over the water to England, And tell the heart of England The Spring is here again!" NEW LIFE Alfred Noyes [1880 SPRING comes laughing down the valley, All in white, from the snow, Where the winter's armies rally Loth to go. Beauty white her garments shower Hawthorn hedges, trees in flower, Tremulous with longings dim, From a root unseen. Amelia Josephine Burr [1878 "OVER THE WINTRY THRESHOLD" OVER the wintry threshold Who comes with joy today, So frail, yet so enduring, To triumph o'er dismay? |