They heard the South wind sighing A murmur of the rain; And they knew that Earth was longing To see them all again. While the snow-drops still were sleeping Beneath the silent sod; They felt their new life pulsing Within the dark, cold clod. Not a daffodil nor daisy Had dared to raise its head; Not a fairhaired dandelion Peeped timid from its bed; Though a tremor of the winter Did shivering through them run; Yet they lifted up their foreheads To greet the vernal sun. And the sunbeams gave them welcome, As did the morning air -- And scattered o'er their simple robes Rich tints of beauty rare. Soon a host of lovely flowers From vales and woodland burst; But in all that fair procession The crocuses were first. First to weave for Earth a chaplet To crown her dear old head; And to beautify the pathway Where winter-still did tread. And their loved and white haired mother Smiled sweetly 'neath the touch, When she knew her faithful children Were loving her so much. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MAD WOMAN'S SONG by KAREN SWENSON AUCTION: ANDERSON GALLERIES by LOUIS UNTERMEYER EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA by GEORGE GORDON BYRON NATHAN HALE [SEPTEMBER 22, 1776] by FRANCIS MILES FINCH THE LAW OF THE YUKON by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE THE ARAB TO THE PALM by BAYARD TAYLOR |