Verse > Anthologies > > Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. > The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse
Arthur Quiller-Couch, comp.  The Oxford Book of Victorian Verse.  1922.
By Henry Charles Beeching (1859–1919)
THERE breathes a sense of Spring in the boon air:
  The woods are amber, purple, misty red,
  Primrose and violet rouse them from their bed,
Their skiey homes the patient rooks repair;
Everywhere hope is rife, joy everywhere;        5
  But I, thy heart, lie yet unquickenèd,
  And bleating lambs and larks that sing o’erhead
Charm not away my sluggish cold despair.
Peace, peace, fond heart; thy spring-tide is not this;
  Thy sap of joy mounted, though flowers were sere,        10
    That day, though leaves fell thick before the West.
Nor grudge nor envy thou a natural bliss.
  Birds keep their season, thou through all the year
    May’st sing thy song, soar skyward, make thy nest.

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