“Spring-Time Is Coming” by Sarah Johnson Cogswell Whittlesey
Spring-Time Is Coming
From Graham’s Magazine, June, 1853
Sarah Johnson Cogswell Whittlesey
SPRING-TIME is coming, I hear its low humming,
Oft where the blue waters sweep;
Sandaled with gold, it breaks the brown mold,
Waking the blossoms asleep.
Down in the bed, where the little bud’s head’
Sunk when its mission was done,
A tiny green sprout, peeping sly out,
Opens its heart to the sun.
Low in the vale, where the winter’s loud wail
Frighted the summer’s soft breeze,
Maiden Spring weaves, of miniature leaves,
Robes for the bare old trees.
‘Neath the white snows, the sorrowing rose,
Through the chill moments hath lain;
Soon its bright face, from out its green case,
Will be uplifted again.
Thus in dark hours, the heart’s buds and flowers
Fade in the winter of sorrow;
Let us not sigh, the little shut eye
Will drink the warm sunshine to-morrow!
So shall it be when the spirit is free
From its close prison of clay;
Life’s withered bud must hide in the sod,
But oh! there is Spring-time away!