In Spring

See how the trees and the osiers lithe
Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe,
The meadows have donned their cape of flowers,
The air is soft with the sweet May showers,
And the birds make melody:
But the spring of the soul, the spring of the soul,
Cometh no more for you or for me.

The lazy hum of the busy bees
Murmureth through the almond trees;
The jonquil flaunteth a gay, blonde head,
The primrose peeps from a mossy bed,
And the violets scent the lane.
But the flowers of the soul, the flowers of the soul,
For you and for me bloom never again.

by Ernest Christopher Dowson

Comments (2)

This is a nice gift to read to my mom she would love to read this beautiful poem this is a good so happy that I can find a poem to bring joy to my mom. I enjoy reading this poem because every mother deserve something nice or special.
very beautiful poem I really enjoyed reading it