Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/13



SPRING sang a song, and sang it me Right glad was I to hear it! It set my heart from chillness free, And gloriously did cheer it. Then said sweet Spring To me, “Now sing An answer, shall come near it.”

Therewith I did a song essay, Brimming with blithest gladness, But ah! my voice (alackaday!) Still echoed Winter’s sadness; Well might I try— Came never nigh That song’s bewitching madness.

Then as against a tree I leant, And o’er my song was sighing,