I called to the summer sun, <br />“Come over the hills to-day! <br /> Unlock the rivers, and tell them to run, <br />And kiss the snow-drifts and melt them away.” <br /> And the sun came over – a tardy lover – <br /> And unlocked the river, and told it to glide, <br /> And kissed the snow-drift till it fainted and died. <br /> <br /> I called to the robin, “Come back! <br />Come up from the south and sing! ” <br /> And robin sailed up on an airy track, <br />And smoothed down his feathers and oiled his wing. <br /> And the notes came gushing, gurgling, rushing, <br /> In trills and quavers, clear, mellow, and strong, <br /> Till the glad air quivered and rang with song. <br /> <br /> I said to the orchard, “Blow! ” <br />I said to the meadow, “Bloom! ” <br /> And the trees stood white, like brides in a row, <br />And the breeze was laden with rare perfume. <br /> And over the meadows, in lights and shadows, <br /> The daisies white and violets blue, <br /> And yellow-haired buttercups blossomed and grew. <br /> <br /> I called to a hope, that died <br />With the death of the flowers and grass, <br /> “Come back! For the river is free to glide – <br />The robin sings, and the daisies bloom.” Alas! <br /> For the hope I cherished too rudely perished <br /> To ever awaken and live again, <br />Though a hundred summers creep over the plain.<br /><br />Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/perished/
