Poems (Blagden)/The seasons in italy: spring—winter

by Isa Blagden

THE SEASONS IN ITALY.

Spring.

I.

A breezeless flutter in the air,
A murmured warbling in the ear,
A sense of gladness everywhere,
Of brooding wings which hover near.

II.

A pulse which thrills, a hope which wakes,
 As youth and hope and love grow strong,
As each hushed rill its silence breaks
 And stirs the woodland into song.

III.

A voice which whispers, Spring is born,
 In tender buddings of the leaves,
The rustle of the young green corn,
 Rich promise of its golden sheaves.

IV.

A full vibration, as of bells
 Which echo sweetly o'er the earth,
And bear through furthest loveliest dells
 The message of the violet's birth.

V.

All this I feel, all this I hear;
 Without the world is fair and bright;
Within each bitter falling tear
 Reveals how dark my winter night.

VI.

Frozen and dead, poor heart of mine!
 Canst thou not melt? must thou still sigh?
Nor wreathe the rose, nor drink the wine,
 Nor put thy mourning garments by?

VII.

Alas! for thee earth's joys are vain;
 Alas! for thee earth's spring is o'er;
For thee no bird shall sing again,
 The vernal year shall bloom no more.

VIII.

Thou hast no part in earth's bright things;
 Thy tale is told, thy course is run.
Ah! without love life knows no springs;
 Ah! without love life feels no sun.

Winter.

I.

Oh my pale December roses,
 Pale and faint, yet sweet and fair;
Would that when life's autumn closes,
 I such dying smiles may wear!

II.

Oh how still the wintry sky!
 Blue, wide depths, so pure and cold.
O'er the hills dim vapours lie,
 Snow in every fleecy fold.

III.

Silent are the ice-bound streams,
 All the forest bare and drear.
Youth is dead, with all its dreams,
 Voiceless, leafless, like the year.

IV.

Do I weep that May is past?
 Do I mourn no summer glow,
Nor its crimson roses, cast
 Love and life upon thy brow?

V.

Oh my pale December roses,
 More I prize your faithful bloom,
Shedding fragrance, ere it closes,
 On my life's dejected gloom!

VI.

Hope deceived me; love is over
 Life is fading in my breast.
Roses, let your blossoms cover
 Lonely tomb and peaceful rest!