SPRING, the tender maiden, Like a girl who greets her lover, Comes, her apron laden Deep with flower and leaf we liked of old; Not a sprig forgetting That we then demanded of her; Changing not nor setting Out of place the tiniest frill or fold. See, the aspen still is Hung awry to droop and falter; Still the leaves of lilies Lift aloft their tall and tender sheath. Wiser than the sages, Spring would never dare to alter What so many ages Showed already right in bloom and wreath. Ah, could Spring remember Every thrill and fancy perished In the soul's December; Lost for ever, faded from the truth! Holy things and tender, Dead, alas! however cherished. Breathe, O Spring, and render That forgotten radiance of our youth! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LINCOLN by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL BEN JONSON ENTERTAINS A MAN FROM STRATFORD by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE BIRD WITH THE COPPERY, KEEN CLAWS by WALLACE STEVENS THE DOLLS by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS NEGRO GIRL by IRENE COOPER ALLEN THE JUDGMENT by KATHARINE LEE BATES VILE SPRING! by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER IN VINCULIS; SONNETS WRITTEN IN AN IRISH PRISON: HONOUR DISHONOURED by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |