Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume II/I Know Not How to Find the Spring
For other versions of this work, see I know not how to find the Spring.
I KNOW NOT HOW TO FIND THE SPRING
I KNOW not how to find the Spring,
Though violets are here,
And in the boughs high over me
The birds are fluting clear;
The magic and the melody,
The rapture—all are fled,
And could they wake, they would but break
My heart, now you are dead.