SPRING BEREAVED I

by: William Drummond (1585-1649)

HAT zephyr every year

So soon was heard to sigh in forests here,

It was for her: that wrapp'd in gowns of green

Meads were so early seen,

That in the saddest months oft sung the merles,

It was for her; for her trees dropp'd forth pearls.

That proud and stately courts

Did envy those our shades and calm resorts,

It was for her; and she is gone, O woe!

Woods cut again do grow,

Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done;

But we, once dead, no more do see the sun.

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