Spring

Dip d.,wn apon the northern ehore, O sweet new year, delaying long; ïhou doent expectant naturo wrong, Delrying long; delay ho more. What stays thee from the clouded noons, Thy sweetness from its proper place? Can trouble live with April days, Or sadneas in the öummer moona? Briug oichis, bring the fox-glove spire, The little seedweU's dading blue, Deep tulips dashed with tiery dew, Laburnums, drooping-wells of fire. O thou, new year, delaying long, Delayest the sorrow in my blood, That longs to burst a frozen bud, And flood a fresher throat with song.