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BROOK-SONG: TO THE SPRING
And I forgot—forlorn and heavy-hearted—
Your promise, goddess of the violet crown!
But soft as music in remembrance sighing,
You fanned me with your wooing breath, and I,
Who shed no tears when lone I seemed and dying,
Wept at your touch, and knew I should not die.
Now by my banks are tender blossoms blowing:
In fragrant loveliness they smile on me,—
But I must hasten to the river, knowing
The river leadeth ever to the sea.
High over me the budding branches quiver
With songs that swell in happy harmony;
But sweeter is the murmur of the river,—
The river that leads ever to the sea!
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