BARREN SPRING

So now the changed year's turning wheel returns

And as a girl sails balanced in the wind,

And now before and now again behind

Stoops as it swoops, with cheek that laughs and burns,—

So Spring comes merry towards me now, but earns

No answering smile from me, whose life is twin'd

With the dead boughs that winter still must bind,

And whom to-day the Spring no more concerns.

Behold, this crocus is a withering flame;

This snowdrop, snow; this apple-blossom's part

To breed the fruit that breeds the serpent's art.

Nay, for these Spring-flowers, turn thy face from them,

Nor gaze till on the year's last lily-stem

The white cup shrivels round the golden heart.