The Warning of Spring

My child, why sit you here so sad
Upon the cold, gray stairs? But say,
The spring has come—all nature’s glad
To throw the winter robes away.

The lily-brides have veiled their heads
In white; the trees—they’re gowned in green—
Are budding with birds; And floral beds
Thrive with life about the Queen.

Even now the night, both dark and fair,
Has primed herself for spring: With stars
She gilds her raven-tinted hair;
She scents herself with flowers for Mars.

Be now like nature, child, and chase
The autumnal tears from in your eyes;
And winter written on your face,
Let cheeks of roses liquefy.

Then, rise and do. For spring, though spry,
Grows quickly old and, fading fast,
Her flowers waste away and die,
Unplucked within a forgotten past.