Poems (Commelin)/When Spring-time Cometh On

by Anna Olcott Commelin

WHEN SPRING-TIME COMETH ON.

   When Spring-time cometh on,—
When the first wind-flower lifts its fragile head,
And purple violets faintest perfume shed,
   And earth her robe shall don
Of emerald velvet, sewn with dots of gold,
   Shall I thy face behold?

   When Spring-time comes again,
When fruit-trees deck themselves in bridal white,
And bush and shrub with living bloom are bright,
   And the soft, gentle rain
Falls on the wold and droppeth in the mere,
   Wilt thou be here?

   When Autumn shall have sway,
When golden-rod and purple aster show
In beauty where the maples deepest glow
   And light with flame the way:—
And barberries in coral shall appear,
   Wilt thou be near?

   When Winter draweth nigh,
And wraps his ermine o'er earth's clay-cold breast,
And every tree in jewelled sheen is drest,
   If I for thee shall sigh,
Shall I, in home's familiar, fire-lit place,
   Behold thy face?

   Through change of seasons told,
Through Spring, with elm-tree buds and tender green,
Through lavish Summer's pageantry of scene,
   Through Autumn's red and gold,
And Winter's frost and jewelled tracery,
'Twere vain, oh Love, earth's fairest things to see
   Afar from thee!

   Oh, Love, what guise soe'er
Thou takest, and in whom thy dwelling-place,
E'en be it form unlovely, fair thy face!
   Oh, gift of heaven rare,
Fairer than light of day, than all things fair,
   Thou art beyond compare!