No time to think of consequences.

The First Spring Day

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet,

if wintry birds are dreaming of a mate,

if frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun

and crocus fires are kindling one by one:

Sing, robin, sing;

i still am sore in doubt concerning spring.

I wonder if the springtide of this year

will bring another spring both lost and dear;

if heart and spirit will find out thrir spring,

or if the world alone will bud and sing;

Sing, hope, to me;

sweet notes, my hope, soft notes for memory.

The sap will surely quicken soon or late,

the tardiest bird will twitter to a mate;

so spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom,

or in this world, or in the world to come:

Sing, voice of spring,

till i too blossom and rejoice and sing.
By Christina Rossetti.

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