Blossomed too soon, little daisies of Spring!
Leaving the sheltering arms of the earth,
The white tears of Winter unshed in the sky,
And weary-eyed Sorrow to welcome your birth.
See, 'twas cold Winter that woke you from sleep,
Breathed upon you with Summer's warm breath,
Kissed your eyes open with lips of the Spring,
Waked you too early—to winter and death.
Where is the promise he whispered to you—
The warmth of the sunshine, the cool of the breeze,
The perfume of thorns all heavy with bloom,
The linnet's sweet song from his shade in the trees?
Bird-songs are silent, and branches are bare;
The snow makes a crown on the heights of the hill;
And your stricken blossoms lie crushed on the ground,
For the warm breath that wooed you to life groweth chill.
Cover, white snowflakes, the spot where they lie,
Scarce living the length of a winter's short noon.
Oh! cover them whitely that no one may find
The grave of my daisies that blossomed too soon.