Spring, ah yes, the joyful time of year, When one begins to sense the cosmic urge, When winter winds have ceased their dreary dirge, And crocuses and daffodils appear; Spring, you say, bright season of delight; But where on Barcelona's cheerless plain Where innocents by thousands have been slain, Is there a blossom spared from bloody blight? Where April thunders once had rolled about, There, now, the noisy cannons shake the sky; Where once the rain had pattered on the street, The sound of heavy boots; and martial shout Re-choes from the walls. A baby's cry But makes the horror of the scene complete. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LA NOCHE TRISTE by ROBERT FROST METRICAL FEET by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SHE PASSED THIS WAY by ANNA M. ACKERMANN ONLY ONE LIFE by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR A CHILD OF TODAY by JAMES BUCKHAM THE WANDERER: 2. IN FRANCE: A REMEMBRANCE by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |