Chapter V

I tell ye the story this chill Halloween,
For it suiteth the Spirit-eve;
But my trance was in Spring-time, when trees were green,
And the hedgerows began to leave:
When the blossom put forth, and the year was new:
When Earth was so lovely—to bid it adieu
Seem’d doubly to die!—and I thought while I drew
My death gasp, I scarcely could grieve
To die in the Autumn, when leaves come down;
When the shadows are gone from the wilderness brown,
When the flowret droops, and the glories that crown
The hill-top, like hopes that deceive:
But to die in Spring,—the joyous Spring!
The dear young year, when Hope hath a wing!
To die amid blossoms,—the season’s sweet prime;
To go ere the summer; to fade in the time
When Earth waketh up at the Easter-bell’s chime,
And dresseth her green, and decketh her sward,
Like virgins, that early awaited the Lord,
On the morn of his waking sublime!
Oh, to die in the Spring-time,—the young joyous Spring,
When scarce have outbudded the sprigs that they fling
In the cold bed they hallow:—when forest birds sing
Their wood-notes too gaily for requiem due:
Oh, this did appal me, as soulless I grew!