Sarah Doudney

The Last Snow of Winter

Soft snow still rests within this wayside cleft,
   Veiling the primrose buds not yet unfurled;
Last trace of dreary winter, idly left
   On beds of moss, and sere leaves crisply curled;
Why does it linger while the violets blow,
                And sweet things grow?

A relic of long nights and weary days,
   When all fair things were hidden from my sight;
A chill reminder of those mournful ways
   I traversed when the fields were cold and white;
My life was dim, my hopes lay still and low
                Beneath the snow.

Now spring is coming, and my buried love
   Breaks fresh and strong and living through the sod;
The lark sings loudly in the blue above,
   The budding earth must magnify her God;
Let the old sorrows and old errors go
                With the last snow!

About the poet

Sarah DoudneySarah Doudney

By the same poet
The Lesson of the Water Mill
Related books
Sarah Doudney at amazon.co.uk