Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Before the Hour

For other versions of this work, see Before the Hour.

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Poems, Volume I by Florence Earle Coates Before the Hour

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BEFORE THE HOUR

UNTIMELY blossom! poor, impatient thing,  That starting rashly from the sheltering mould  Bravest the peevish wind and sullen cold,  Mistaking thine own ardors for the spring!— Thou to my heart a memory dost bring  Of hopes once fair like thee, like thee too bold  To breathe their fragrance, and their flowers unfold,  That droop'd, of wintry rigors languishing. Nor birds, nor bees, nor waters murmuring low,  Nor breezes blown from any Arcady,  Found they,—earth's welcome waiting to bestow; Yet sweet, they felt, sweeter than dreams, would be  The summer they had sought too soon to know,—  The summer they should never live to see!