Page:Collected poems of Rupert Brooke.djvu/153

 SONG

All suddenly the wind comes soft,

And Spring is here again;

And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,

And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,

The earth so dead and frore,

That I never thought the Spring would come,

Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,

And the small birds cry again;

And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,

And my heart puts forth its pain.