Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lover’s lane
Where last year we used to go-
Where we shall not go again.
In the hedge the buds are new,
By our wood the violets peer-
Just like last year’s violets too,
But they have no scent this year.
Every bird has heart to sing
Of its nest, warmed by its breast;
We had heart to sing last spring,
But we never built our nest.
Presently red roses blown
Will make all the garden gay..
Not yet have the daisies grown
On your clay.
(Edith Nesbit)
More Poetry from Edith Nesbit:
Edith Nesbit Poems based on Topics: Love, Spring, Garden- The Moat House (Edith Nesbit Poems)
- Tekel (Edith Nesbit Poems)
- After Sixty Years (Edith Nesbit Poems)
- Two Christmas Eves (Edith Nesbit Poems)
- Absolution (Edith Nesbit Poems)
- At The Gate (Edith Nesbit Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, Spring Poems, Garden PoemsBased on Keywords: blackthorn