APRIL FLOWERS.
Pale flowers, pale flowers, ye came too soon;
The North, with icy breath,
Hath whispered hoarsely through the skies
A word that spoke of death.
Ye came too soon—the Spring's first glance,
In this cold clime of ours,
Is but the shine of Winter's lance—
Ye came too soon, pale flowers!
The North, with icy breath,
Hath whispered hoarsely through the skies
A word that spoke of death.
Ye came too soon—the Spring's first glance,
In this cold clime of ours,
Is but the shine of Winter's lance—
Ye came too soon, pale flowers!
Pale, rain-drenched flowers, ye came to greet
The young Spring's earliest call,
As untaught hearts leap forth to meet
Loved footsteps in the hall:
Ye came—beneath, the snow-wreath lies;
Above, the storm-cloud lowers;
Around, the breath of winter sighs—
Ye came too soon, pale flowers.
The young Spring's earliest call,
As untaught hearts leap forth to meet
Loved footsteps in the hall:
Ye came—beneath, the snow-wreath lies;
Above, the storm-cloud lowers;
Around, the breath of winter sighs—
Ye came too soon, pale flowers.
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