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| YOU are not with me though the Spring is here! | |
| And yet it seemed to me to-day as if the Spring | |
| Were the same one that in an ancient year | |
| Came suddenly upon our wandering. | |
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| You must remember all that chanced that day. | 5 |
| Can you forget the shy awaking call | |
| Of the first robin?—And the foolish way | |
| The squirrel ran along the low stone wall? | |
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| The half-retreating sound of water breaking, | |
| Hushing, falling; while the pine-laden breeze | 10 |
| Told us the tumult many crows were making | |
| Amid innumerable distant trees; | |
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| The certain presence of the birth of things | |
| Around, above, beneath us,—everywhere; | |
| The soft return of immemorial Springs | 15 |
| Thrilling with life the fragrant forest air; | |
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| All these were with us, then. Can you forget? | |
| Or must you—even as I—remember well? | |
| To-day, all these were with me, there,—and yet | |
| They seemed to have some bitter thing to tell; | 20 |
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| They looked with questioning eyes, and seemed to wait | |
| One’s doubtful coming whom of old they knew; | |
| Till, seeing me alone and desolate, | |
| They learned how vain was strong desire of you. | |
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