NEVER yet was a springtime, Late though lingered the snow, That the sap stirred not at the whisper Of the south wind, sweet and low; Never yet was a springtime When the buds forgot to blow. Ever the wings of the summer Are folded under the mould; Life, that has known no dying, Is Love's, to have and to hold, Till, sudden, the burgeoning Easter! The song! the green and the gold! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON AN INTAGLIO HEAD OF MINERVA (1) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH EMPEDOCLES ON ETNA; A DRAMATIC POEM by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE MONK IN THE KITCHEN by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH THE THRUSH'S NEST by JOHN CLARE HYSTERIA by THOMAS STEARNS ELIOT THE RETORT by GEORGE POPE MORRIS EULALIE; A SONG by EDGAR ALLAN POE |