A Farewell to Spring (an original poem)

The text of this poem is free to copy for any and all purposes under CC BY 4.0 (attribution only).

Transcript:

The spring is gone then; and has turned her back,
Just when she grew most lovely and familiar.
A joy that seemed to see all joy before it;
It should have felt more lasting. First of seasons!
You fled as suddenly as youth itself:
That dream of endless possibility,
From which we start in cold bewilderment.
Just so I woke from you, season of dreams.
The winter's desolation fit my mood;
But through it all I hoped and prayed, that you,
Also, would be a symbol of my life:
Sweeping my cares away like autumn leaves,
And granting me a beautiful rebirth.

Those hopes, I know, have fallen short; but still
I treasure every memory you gave,
In passing through your wonderful successions.
What magic, when I first caught sight of birds
On leafless branches, perfect to the view!
Magic, when next the buds began to grow;
I saw the primrose, shyly smiling up,
And daffodils that danced on every verge.
In woods, a mist of bluebells stretched as far
As eye could see; in fields the dandelions,
With sun-like glory. The cowslips also shone,
But seldom seen, and as a light in darkness:
They loved to rest together in the shade,
Or resolutely clung across the ditches.
Then last but most majestical of all,
The cow's parsley conspired with hawthorn flowers
To bring back winter's snow in latest spring.

So even in her death, does spring recall
Her birth and triumph over winter, a time
Mysteriously lovely. The cold bites hard;
The wind shakes trees still scarcely in the bud,
That menace us in their austerity;
But never do we doubt that she shall conquer.
Season most sacred! defiant-beautiful,
Like a first love that tried with all its strength,
Though fraught with hardship, faithfully and purely;
As you have fought with universal death.

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