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Alfred Austin - Farewell To SpringAlfred Austin - Farewell To Spring
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I saw this morning, with a sudden smart, Spring preparing to depart. I know her well and so I told her all my heart. ``Why did you, Spring, your coming so delay, If, now here, you cannot stay? You win my love and then unloving pass away. ``We waited, waited, O so long, so long, Just to hear the ousel`s song. To—morrow `twill be hushed, to—day that is so strong. ``Day after day, and dawn again on dawn, Winter`s shroud was on the lawn, So still, so smooth, we thought `twould never be withdrawn. `Now that at last your welcome mimic snow Doth upon the hawthorn blow, It bides not on the bough, but melts before we know. ``Scarce hath the primrose o`er the sordid mould Lavished treasure, than behold! Our wealth of simple joy is robbed of all its gold. ``When to the woods we hie with feet of mirth, Now the hyacinths have birth, Swiftly the blue of Heaven fades from the face of earth. ``You with dry gusts and unrelenting wrack Kept the liquid cuckoo back. Now, even ere he goes, he turneth hoarse, alack! ``When, in the long warm nights of June, Nightingales have got their tune, Their sweet woe dies, and we are beggared of the boon. ``First drops the bloom, then darkens the green leaf; Everything in life is brief, Save autumn`s deepening gloom and winter`s changeless grief.`` Then with a smile thus answered me the Spring: ``To my voice and flight you cling, For I, before I perch, again am on the wing. ``With you were I the whole year round to stay, `Twould be you that went away, Your love made fickle by monotony of May. ``Love cannot live save upon love beyond. Leaving you, I keep you fond, Not letting you despair, but making you despond. `Farewell, and love me still, my lover dear, Love me till another year, And you, if you be true, again will find me here.`` Then darker, deeper, waxed the woods; the ground Flowerless turned and then embrowned; And less was of sweet scent, and less was of sweet sound. Mute was the mavis, moulted was the thorn, Meads were cut, and lambs were shorn, And I by Spring was left forsaken and forlorn.  Forlorn, forsaken, shall I be until Primrose peep and throstle shrill, And in the orchard gleam the outriding daffodil. Then shall I know that Spring among the trees Hiding is, and that the breeze Anew will fling abroad odours and melodies.
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