April Flowers

Pale flowers, pale flowers, ye came too soon;The North, with icy breath,Hath whispered hoarsely through the skiesA word that spoke of death.Ye came too soon—the Spring's first glance,In this cold clime of ours,Is but the shine of Winter's lance—Ye came too soon, pale flowers!

Pale, rain-drenched flowers, ye came to greetThe young Spring's earliest call,As untaught hearts leap forth to meetLoved footsteps in the hall:Ye came—beneath, the snow-wreath lies;Above, the storm-cloud lowers;Around, the breath of winter sighs—Ye came too soon, pale flowers.

Pale, blighted flowers, the summer timeWill smile on brighter leaves;They will not wither in their prime,Like a young heart that grieves;But the impulsive buds that dareThe chill of April showers,Breathe woman-love's low martyr prayer—I kiss your leaves, pale flowers.