Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow <br />Lies along the lover’s lane <br />Where last year we used to go- <br />Where we shall not go again. <br /> <br />In the hedge the buds are new, <br />By our wood the violets peer- <br />Just like last year’s violets too, <br />But they have no scent this year. <br /> <br />Every bird has heart to sing <br />Of its nest, warmed by its breast; <br />We had heart to sing last spring, <br />But we never built our nest. <br /> <br />Presently red roses blown <br />Will make all the garden gay.. <br />Not yet have the daisies grown <br />On your clay.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-in-war-time-2/
