Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
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Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
 
XV. Protest
On one who died in May
By Clarence Chatham Cook (1828–1900)
 
WHY, Death, what dost thou here,
    This time o’ year?
Peach-blow and apple-blossom;
Clouds, white as my love’s bosom;
  Warm wind o’ the west        5
  Cradling the robin’s nest;
Young meadows hasting their green laps to fill
With golden dandelion and daffodil:
  These are fit sights for spring;
  But, oh, thou hateful thing,        10
    What dost thou here?
 
Why, Death, what dost thou here,
    This time o’ year?
Fair, at the old oak’s knee,
The young anemone;        15
Fair, the plash places set
With dog-tooth violet;
    The first sloop-sail;
    The shad-flower pale;
Sweet are all sights,        20
Sweet are all sounds of spring;
But thou, thou ugly thing,
    What dost thou here?
 
 
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