See how the trees and the osiers lithe <br />Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe, <br />The meadows have donned their cape of flowers, <br />The air is soft with the sweet May showers, <br />And the birds make melody: <br />But the spring of the soul, the spring of the soul, <br />Cometh no more for you or for me. <br /> <br />The lazy hum of the busy bees <br />Murmureth through the almond trees; <br />The jonquil flaunteth a gay, blonde head, <br />The primrose peeps from a mossy bed, <br />And the violets scent the lane. <br />But the flowers of the soul, the flowers of the soul, <br />For you and for me bloom never again.<br /><br />Ernest Christopher Dowson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-spring-3/
