Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2185/"Blossoms Meet to Mourn the Dead"

by E. F. M.

Blossoms meet to mourn the dead
On each season's grave are spread.
Lilies white and roses red
O'er dead Spring are canopied;
Roses in their latest bloom
Blazon golden Summer's tomb;
Stealthy showers of petals fall
At still Autumn's funeral
But the darlings of the year
Strew rude Winter's sepulchre.

Scarce a flower does Winter own.
Of four seasons he alone
Scarce a bud does to him take.
Barren for the future's sake,
Well content to none possess.
And sweet violets — faithfulness —
And white snowdrops — innocence —
Are in death his recompense.
And these darlings of the year
Strew rude Winter's sepulchre.