page: 71
Spring
- ‘THE spring is here!’ the primrose says;
- The birds exult—‘The spring is here!’
- A veil of buds, desire and dear,
- Is thrown across the lengthening days.
- The furrowed field that was so brown
- Is faintly gray with wet green spears,
- Which shall be fruitful wheaten ears,
- The golden autumn’s golden crown.
- The sticky chestnut‐buds unfold,
- The almond‐blossom pinkly gleams;
- The freshness of our childhood’s dreams
- Is on the moor, the wood, the wold.
- The fat, blithe blackbirds on the lawn
- Rejoice to see the grass grown green;
- And starlings, where the thatched roofs lean,
- Chatter in gray and windy dawn.
- And spring is here—but with the spring
- Come bitter winds, and cold, cold showers:
- Will these not slay the wakening flowers
- And stay the buds from blossoming?
- No—in despite of wind and rain,
- The year will add to flowers new flowers,
- Till summer comes with burning hours,
- And all the roses live again.
- And we—no chill that time can bring,
- No icy wind of worldly scorn,
- Shall ever make our souls forlorn
- Of this sweet promise of the spring!
- No cold, nor rain, nor wind is strong
- To slay Hope’s seed our hearts within;
- Freedom, we know, at last shall win,
- Though Tyranny endures so long!
