The Witness

The Master of the Garden said;

“Who, now the Earth seems cold and dead,

Will by his fearless witnessing

Hold men's hearts for the tardy spring?”

“Not yet. I am but half awake,”

All drowsily the Primrose spake.

And fast the sleeping Daffodils

Had folded up their golden frills.

“Indeed,” the frail Anemone

Said softly, “‘ tis too cold for me.”

Wood Hyacinths, all deeply set,

Replied: “No ice has melted yet.”

When suddenly, with smile so bright,

Up sprang a Winter Aconite,

And to the Master joyfully

She cried: “I will the witness be.”