SPRING MORNING OF A BEREAVED MAN 347
At last the spring o'er everything shall sweetly smile once
more ; Her fragrant breath and winter's death shall Nature's bloom
restore ; And budding flowers 'neath April showers shall wake from
wintry sleep, And the rustling vine aloft shall twine and round the windows
creep. Then the brown butterfly shall light on the last bank of sno\v, = ^ And 'neath the shady pines the pale anemone shall blow. The tree, the flower, the bee, the bower, the sea-fowl o'er the
main, The skies of blue, the squirrel, too, shall all come back again ; And then, they say, the newborn May shall solace bring to
woe, — The flight of years dries human tears as Spring drinks up the
snow.
Why then, fair swallow, come again, if grief be then grown old;
Yet, foolish thing, what use to sing to one whose heart is cold ?
Can it delight, in sunshine bright, to see thee dive and soar
Among my trees, when thou and these love's raptures wake no more ?
Many there be will welcome thee, then let the song be theirs !
Forbear thy strain ! Thou'lt soothe in vain a spirit that de- spairs.
Farewell, and thanks to thee, yet sing no more beneath the eaves —
wake me not ! I'd sleep forgot, as sound as last year's
leaves !
1 cannot bid thee welcome, merry harbinger of spring.
For a robe of woe my feelings throw round thee and every- thing.
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