She softly droops her maiden eyes Behind the casement ledge at home, And ever and anon she sighs -- 'Ah, if the Spring would only come!' Another on his bed of pain With hope of health and sunshine near, Warms his faint heart with like refrain, -- 'Ah, if the Spring were only here!' And soon the Spring with flower and dove Brings each a portion on its breath: -- For her, sweet blossomings and love; For him, sweet blossomings and death. |