THE maiden Spring came laughing down the dales, Her fair brows arched, and on her rosebud mouth, The balm and beauty of the lustrous South; Through soft green fields, from hills to happy vales, She tripped, her small feet twinkling in the sun, Her delicate finger raised with girlish mirth, Pointed at graybeard Winter, who, in dearth, Toiled toward his couch, his long day labor done; Ah no, not done! for hark! a sudden wind, Death-laden, sweeps from realms of arctic sky, And blurred with storm, the morn grows crazed and blind; Then Winter, mocking, backward turns apace, Where pallid Spring all vainly strives to fly, And with brute buffet scars her shrinking face! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN ANCIENT PROPHECY by PHILIP FRENEAU THE TESTAMENT OF CRESSEID by ROBERT HENRYSON TWELVE SONNETS: 10. THY WHITENESS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) IDYLL 5. LIFE TO BE ENJOYED by BION LE ROI EST MORT. VIVE LE ROI! by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |