The Sad Spring

The Spring weeps, she is forlorn; Well that she may weep, alas! Now that many babes are born Whose dear fathers lie in grass. Snowdrops in the frozen earth Faint and are not comforted; Never was so sad a birth, Never was so sad a bed. She must bear her pangs alone. Where is sorrow like to hers? In an anguish cold as stone Her dead soldier's child she bears. Now her trembling arms will hold Close the piteous downy thing To a milky breast as cold As the frozen water-spring. Now she hopes and dreads to find Likeness in the little son To his father, brave and kind. Like or not, her heart's undone. Tender nurslings born in pain, Mother's comfort, mother's grief, When her tears run down like rain, Lord, bring Thou a handkerchief. Wipe the widow's tears away, Father orphan boys and girls. Lead them out where they may play, With Thy hand upon their curls.