Dip down upon the northern shore, <br />O sweet new-year, delaying long; <br />Thou doest expectant Nature wrong, <br />Delaying long, delay no more. <br /> <br />What stays thee from the clouded noons, <br />Thy sweetness from its proper place? <br />Can trouble live with April days, <br />Or sadness in the summer moons? <br /> <br />Bring orchis, bring the fox-glove spire, <br />The little speedwell's darling blue, <br />Deep tulips dashed with fiery dew, <br />Laburnums, dropping-wells of fire. <br /> <br />O thou, new-year, delaying long, <br />Delayest the sorrow in my blood, <br />That longs to burst a frozen bud, <br />And flood a fresher throat with song.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lxxxiii-spring/
