from The Twelve Months
February
Fair Grecian legend, that, in Spring,
Seeking sweet tale for sunnier hours,
Fabled how Enna's queen did bring
Back from the underworld her flowers!
Whence come ye else, goblets of gold,
Which men the yellow crocus call ?
You snow-drops, maiden-meek and cold,
What other fingers let you fall?
What hand but hers, who, wont to rove
The asphodel in Himera,
Torn thence by an ungentle love,
Flung not her favourites away?
King of dark death! on thoughts that roam
Thy passion and thy power were spent:
When blossom-time is clue at home,
Homeward the soul's strong wings are bent.
So comes she. with her pleasant wont,
When Spring-time chases Winter cold,
Couching against his frozen front
Her tiny spears of green and gold.
~~
Edwin Arnold (1832-1904)
from Poems: National and non-oriental, 1906
[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]
Ziegler175, Burgfelden Krokus, 1983. CC BY 3.0, Wikimedia Commons.
No comments:
Post a Comment