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SPRING AT THE CAPITAL.
195
She holds her even way the same,
Though navies sink or cities flame;
A snow-drop is a snow-drop still, despite the nation's joy or shame.
Though navies sink or cities flame;
A snow-drop is a snow-drop still, despite the nation's joy or shame.
When blood her grassy altar wets,
She sends the pitying violets
To heal the outrage with their bloom, and cover it with soft regrets.
She sends the pitying violets
To heal the outrage with their bloom, and cover it with soft regrets.
O crocuses with rain-wet eyes,
O tender-lipped anemones,
What do ye know of agony and death and blood-won victories?
O tender-lipped anemones,
What do ye know of agony and death and blood-won victories?
No shadow breaks your sunshine-trance,
Though near you rolls, with slow advance,
Clouding your sunshine leaves with dust, the anguish-laden ambulance.
Though near you rolls, with slow advance,
Clouding your sunshine leaves with dust, the anguish-laden ambulance.
Yonder a white encampment hums;
The clash of martial music comes;
And now your startled stems are all a-tremble with the jar of drums.
The clash of martial music comes;
And now your startled stems are all a-tremble with the jar of drums.
