WHEN the spring comes round, and a certain day Looks out from the brume by the eastern copsetrees And says, Remember, I begin again, as if it were new, A day of like date I once lived through, Whiling it hour by hour away; So shall I do till my December, When spring comes round. I take my holiday then and my rest Away from the dun life here about me, Old hours re-greeting With the quiet sense that bring they must Such throbs as at first, till I house with dust, And in the numbness my heartsome zest For things that were, be past repeating When spring comes round. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO GALLANT FRANCE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON VIGNETTES OVERSEAS: 9. VILLA SEBELLONI, BELLAGGIO by SARA TEASDALE TANGENTIAL by LOUIS UNTERMEYER A DEATH IN THE DESERT by ROBERT BROWNING AN OLD WOMAN OF THE ROADS by PADRAIC COLUM IN THIS DARK HOUSE by EDWARD DAVISON BREST LEFT BEHIND by JOHN CHIPMAN FARRAR |