SHE stood alone amidst the April fields, -- Brown, sodden fields, all desolate and bare, -- "The spring is late," she said, -- "the faithless spring, That should have come to make the meadows fair. "Their sweet South left too soon, among the trees The birds, bewildered, flutter to and fro; For them no green boughs wait, -- their memories Of last year's April had deceived them so. "From 'neath a sheltering pine some tender buds Looked out, and saw the hollows filled with snow; On such a frozen world they closed their eyes; When spring is cold, how can the blossoms blow?" She watched the homeless birds, the slow, sad spring, The barren fields, and shivering, naked trees: "Thus God has dealt with me, his child," she said, -- I wait my spring-time, and am cold like these. "To them will come the fulness of their time; Their spring, though late, will make the meadows fair; Shall I, who wait like them, like them be blest? I am His own, -- doth not my Father care?" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WE CAN'T WRITE OURSELVES INTO ETERNAL LIFE by DAVID IGNATOW INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN ON A HEATH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE MARIPOSA LILY by INA DONNA COOLBRITH THE WINGED WORSHIPPERS; ADDRESSED TO TWO SWALLOWS .. DURING SERVICE by CHARLES SPRAGUE |