The Crab-Tree

Spring comes anew, and brings each little pledge That still, as wont, my childish heart deceives; I stoop again for violets in the hedge, Among the ivy and old withered leaves; And often mark, amid the clumps of sedge, The pooty-shells I gathered when a boy: But cares have claimed me many an evil day, And chilled the relish which I had for joy. Yet when Crab-blossoms blush among the May, As erst in years gone by, I scramble now Up ’mid the bramble for my old esteems, Filling my hands with many a blooming bough; Till the heart-stirring past as present seems, Save the bright sunshine of those fairy dreams.