O SPRING, that flutter'st the slow Winter by, To drop thy buds before his frosty feet, Dost thou not grieve to see thy darlings lie In trodden death, and weep their beauty sweet? Yet must thou cast thy tender offering, And make thy way above thy mourned dead, Or frowning Winter would be always king, And thou wouldst never walk with crowned head, So gentle Love must make his venturous way Among the shaken buds of his own pain; And many a hope-blown garland meekly lay Before the chilly season of disdain; But as no beauty may the Spring outglow, So he, when throned, no greater lord doth know. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE NIGHT-PIECE: TO JULIA by ROBERT HERRICK PREJUDICE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE HOUSEKEEPER by CHARLES LAMB PARAPHRASE ON THOMAS A KEMPIS by ALEXANDER POPE TWO VARIATIONS ON AN OLD NURSEY RHYME: 2 by EDITH SITWELL A RHYMED REVIEW; 'LAUGHING MUSE' (BY ARTHUR GUITERMAN) by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |