AT last, coy Spring, concede one festal day To us who yearn thy beauty to behold; These pallid leaves, that peer above the mould, Perfume and brighten; lanes and woods array With hawthorn, that was wont to bloom in May, White-petalled, crimson-anthered; lilies cold, With drooping bells that hide their central gold, And sun-bright buttercups and cowslips gay. Long have we listened to a song of death, That wild winds chant o'er living seeds entombed: Sing thou of life; inspire us with thy breath; Transfuse thy lustre e'en through clouds and showers; Our hearts shall glow, like dells by thee illumed, Whose shadows are but images of flowers. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 22 by ALFRED TENNYSON TO ANACREON by ANTIPATER OF SIDON THE BALLAD OF ORISKANY by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 20. 'SONG IS NOT DEAD' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) PSALM 6; AUGUST 13, 1643 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE TO WEBSTER by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE |