To a Lady, V

I tell ye the story this chill Halloween, For it suiteth the Spirit-eve; But my trance was in Spring-time, when trees were green, And the hedgerows began to leave: When the blossom put forth, and the year was new: When Earth was so lovely—to bid it adieu Seem’d doubly to die!—and I thought while I drew My death gasp, I scarcely could grieve To die in the Autumn, when leaves come down; When the shadows are gone from the wilderness brown, When the flowret droops, and the glories that crown The hill-top, like hopes that deceive: But to die in Spring,—the joyous Spring! The dear young year, when Hope hath a wing! To die amid blossoms,—the season’s sweet prime; To go ere the summer; to fade in the time When Earth waketh up at the Easter-bell’s chime, And dresseth her green, and decketh her sward, Like virgins, that early awaited the Lord, On the morn of his waking sublime! Oh, to die in the Spring-time,—the young joyous Spring, When scarce have outbudded the sprigs that they fling In the cold bed they hallow:—when forest birds sing Their wood-notes too gaily for requiem due: Oh, this did appal me, as soulless I grew!