Next Year’s Spring

Next Year’s Spring

THE bed of flowers

Loosens amain,

The beauteous snowdrops[237]

Droop o’er the plain.

The crocus opens

Its glowing bud,

Like emeralds[238]others，

Others,like blood.

With saucy gesture

Primroses[239]flare，

And roguish violets,

Hidden with care;

And whatsoever

There stirs and strives,

The Spring’s contented,

If works and thrives.

’Mongst all the blossoms

That fairest are,

My sweetheart’s sweetness

Is sweetest far;

Upon me ever

Her glances light,

My song they waken,

My words make bright,

An ever open

And blooming mind,

In sport，unsullied[240]，

In earnest,kind.

Though roses and lilies

By Summer are brought,

Against my sweetheart

Prevails he nought.

1816.