William Stanley Braithwaite, ed. (1878–1962). Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1920.

Alone in Spring

I NEVER met the Spring alone before:

The flowers, birds, the loveliness of trees,

For with me always there was one I love—

And love is shield against such gifts as these.

But now I am alone, alone, alone;

The days and nights one long remembering.

Did other Aprils that we shared possess

The hurting beauty of this living Spring?

I never met the Spring alone before—

My starving grief—this radiance of gold!…

To be alone, when Spring is being born,

One should be dead—or suddenly grown old.

Contemporary Verse