If I might see another Spring
I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
I’d have my crocuses at once
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill—veined snow—drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf—nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.
If I might see another Spring
I’d listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I’d listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I’d find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.
If I might see another Spring —
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in ‘if’ —
If I might see another Spring
I’d laugh today, today is brief
I would not wait for anything:
I’d use today that cannot last,
Be glad today and sing.

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