THAT zephyr every year <br /> So soon was heard to sigh in forests here, <br />It was for her: that wrapp'd in gowns of green <br /> Meads were so early seen, <br />That in the saddest months oft sung the merles, <br />It was for her; for her trees dropp'd forth pearls. <br /> That proud and stately courts <br />Did envy those our shades and calm resorts, <br />It was for her; and she is gone, O woe! <br /> Woods cut again do grow, <br />Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done; <br />But we, once dead, no more do see the sun.<br /><br />William Henry Drummond<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-bereaved-1/
