Bulb Planting Time

Last night he said the dead were dead And scoffed my faith to scorn; I found him at a tulip bed When I passed by at morn. 'O ho!' said I, 'the frost is near And mist is on the hills, And yet I find you planting here Tulips and daffodils.' ''Tis time to plant them now,' he said, 'If they shall bloom in Spring'; 'But every bulb,' said I, 'seems dead, And such an ugly thing.' 'The pulse of life I cannot feel, The skin is dried and brown. Now look!' a bulb beneath my heel I crushed and trampled down. In anger then he said to me: 'You've killed a lovely thing; A scarlet blossom that would be Some morning in the Spring.' 'Last night a greater sin was thine,' To him I slowly said; 'You trampled on the dead of mine And told me they are dead.