Classic Poem

O faintly smiles spring as 'twere half a-cold,
And winter is weeping itself away,
But who heeds the tears of a dotard old,
In the faintest smile of a maiden gay!

And a maid, with drooping flowers in her hair,
Hath asked me to sing, why the flowers that spring,
Hardiest and first in the cold bleak air,
Are the soonest of all seen withering?

Sweet maiden! believe me, spring even now,
While your heart the death of her flowrets grieves,
Breathing on thousands just open to blow,
Kisses the winter's cold tears from their leaves.

And flowers! wild flowers! at her whisper, your hue
Is deepen'd with blushes, but say, O say!
Why bloom ye soon, and then shrinking from view,
Ah! why so soon do ye perish away!

Ye are not of earth! she owns nought so bright—
Spring coming from Eden, brought you away,
The guardian angel frown'd at the sight,
But she smiled—and how could he say her nay!

And wild flowers of spring, 'tis from pride I fear,
That timidly shrinking, ye droop so soon:
For ye feel, sweet flowrets, degraded here,
And will bloom in spring's brief visit alone.