The Trees of Grieving

What can I say for the trees of grieving —
These in the spring that flower ere leaving?
Early they come to blossom for us
Who in the winter are spring-sighing thus:

"How long must we wait — the grey is hard-born —
For colors we love in brightness of morn?
The seasons are cycles of forgetting all
The things we remember in spring and in fall.

"Were winter repelled and autumn detained,
Or hot summer kept and spring unrestrained,
We'd lose all the treasure of looking around.
This is the beauty of beauty's rebound."

So all of those trees that blossom before
Leafing their limbs with verdant up-store
Are giving to us a Hey! and a Hi!:
"All hail the Spring for which you did sigh!"

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