Classic Poem

Behold from sluggish winter's arm
Spring lifts herself again:
Naked before the steel-cold air
She shivers as in pain;
Look, Lalage, is that a tear
In the sun's eye which yet shines clear?

From beds of snow the flowers awake
Lifting in deep amaze
To heaven their eager eyes: but yet
More in that wistful gaze
Than wonder lies: sure trembles there,
O Lalage, some memory fair,

Some dream which 'neath the coverlet white
Of winter snow they dreamed,
Some sleeping sight of dewy dawns
And summer suns that gleamed,
And thy bright eyes, O Lalage;
Was not the dream a prophecy?

To-day my spirit sleeps and dreams;
Where do my far thoughts fly?
Close to thy beauty's face we stand
And smile, the spring and I; —
Yet, Lalage, whence come these tears?
Has spring, too, felt the doom of years?