The Spring weeps, she is forlorn; <br />Well that she may weep, alas! <br />Now that many babes are born <br />Whose dear fathers lie in grass. <br /> <br /> <br />Snowdrops in the frozen earth <br />Faint and are not comforted; <br />Never was so sad a birth, <br />Never was so sad a bed. <br /> <br /> <br />She must bear her pangs alone. <br />Where is sorrow like to hers? <br />In an anguish cold as stone <br />Her dead soldier's child she bears. <br /> <br /> <br />Now her trembling arms will hold <br />Close the piteous downy thing <br />To a milky breast as cold <br />As the frozen water-spring. <br /> <br /> <br />Now she hopes and dreads to find <br />Likeness in the little son <br />To his father, brave and kind. <br />Like or not, her heart's undone. <br /> <br /> <br />Tender nurslings born in pain, <br />Mother's comfort, mother's grief, <br />When her tears run down like rain, <br />Lord, bring Thou a handkerchief. <br /> <br /> <br />Wipe the widow's tears away, <br />Father orphan boys and girls. <br />Lead them out where they may play, <br />With Thy hand upon their curls.<br /><br />Katharine Tynan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sad-spring/
