Spring…

Frost locked all winter,
Seeds, roots and stones of fruits,
What shall make their sap ascend,
That they may put forth shoots?
Tips of tender green,
Leaf, blade, or sheath,
Telling of hidden life,
That breaks forth underneath,
Life nursed in it’s grave by Death.

Blows the thaw-wind pleasantly,
Drips the soaking rain,
By fits looks down the waking sun,
Young grass springs on the plain,
Young leaves clothe early hedgerow trees,
Seeds, roots and stones of fruits,
Swollen with sap put forth their shoots,
Curled-headed ferns sprout in the lane,
Birds sing and pair again.

There is no time like Spring,
When life’s alive in everything,
Before new nestlings sing,
Before cleft swallows speed their journey back,
Along the trackless track,
God guides their wing,
He spreads their table that they nothing lack, 
Before the daisy grows a common flower,
Before the sun has power,
To scorch the world up in noon-tide hour.

There is no time like Spring,
Like Spring that passes by,
There is no life like Spring life born to die, 
Piercing the sod,
Clothing the uncouth clod,
Hatched in the nest,
Fledged on the windy bough,
Strong on the wing,
There is no time like Spring that passes by,
Now newly born and now,
Hastening to die.

-Christina Rossetti

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