Spring Bereaved Ii
Sweet Spring, thou turnst with all thy goodly train, Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flowrs: The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain, The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their showrs. Thou turnst, sweet youth, but ah! my pleasant hours And happy days with thee come not again; The sad memorials only of my pain Do with thee turn, which turn my sweets in sours. Thou art the same which still thou wast before, Delicious, wanton, amiable, fair; But she, whose breath embalmd thy wholesome air, Is gone, nor gold nor gems her can restore. Neglected virtue, seasons go and come,
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"Sweet Spring, thou turnst with all thy goodly train,..."
William Henry Drummond's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Spring Bereaved Ii"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...