Sad Spring
" SWEET Spring is here," I heard men say and sing,
Then went I forth to seek where he might be:
I found the buds on every bush and tree,
But nowhere could I find my darling, Spring.
Birds hummed, the bees, they sang; but everything
They sang or hummed was sad as sad could be;
Rills gushed, but all their waves were tears to me;
Suns laughed, — no joy to me their looks could bring.
Nor of my darling could I find a trace,
Till with my pilgrim-staff I took my way
To a well known, but long neglected place,
And there I found him, Spring: near where she lay,
He sate, a beauteous boy, with tearful face,
Like one who weeps above a mother's clay.
Then went I forth to seek where he might be:
I found the buds on every bush and tree,
But nowhere could I find my darling, Spring.
Birds hummed, the bees, they sang; but everything
They sang or hummed was sad as sad could be;
Rills gushed, but all their waves were tears to me;
Suns laughed, — no joy to me their looks could bring.
Nor of my darling could I find a trace,
Till with my pilgrim-staff I took my way
To a well known, but long neglected place,
And there I found him, Spring: near where she lay,
He sate, a beauteous boy, with tearful face,
Like one who weeps above a mother's clay.
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