| |
| | “Causa fuit Pater his.” |
| HOR. |
THE EARTH cast off her snowy shrouds, | |
| And overhead the skies | |
| Looked down between the soft white clouds, | |
| As blue as children’s eyes. | |
| “The breath of Spring was all too sweet,” she said, | 5 |
| “Too like the Spring that came ere he was dead.” | |
| |
| The grass began to grow that day, | |
| The flowers awoke from sleep; | |
| And round her did the sunbeams play | |
| Till she was fain to weep. | 10 |
| “The light will surely blind my eyes,” she said, | |
| “It shines so brightly still, yet he is dead.” | |
| |
| The buds grew glossy in the sun | |
| On many a leafless tree, | |
| The little brooks did laugh and run | 15 |
| With most melodious glee. | |
| “O God! they make a jocund noise,” she said; | |
| “All things forget him now that he is dead.” | |
| |
| The wind had from the almond flung | |
| Red blossoms round her feet, | 20 |
| On hazel-boughs the catkins hung, | |
| The willow-blooms grew sweet. | |
| “Palm willows, fragrant with the Spring,” she said, | |
| “He always found the first;—but he is dead.” | |
| |
| Right golden was the crocus flame, | 25 |
| And, touched with purest green, | |
| The small white flower of stainless name | |
| Above the ground was seen. | |
| “He used to love the white and gold,” she said; | |
| “The snowdrops come again, and he is dead.” | 30 |
| |
| “I would not wish him back,” she cried, | |
| “In this dark world of pain. | |
| For him the joys of life abound, | |
| For me its griefs remain. | |
| I would not wish him back again,” she said, | 35 |
| “But Spring is hard to bear now he is dead.” | |
| |
