Song

All suddenly the wind comes soft,

  And Spring is here again;

And the hawthorn quickens with buds of green,

  And my heart with buds of pain.

My heart all Winter lay so numb,

  The earth so dead and frore,

That I never thought the Spring would come,

   Or my heart wake any more.

But Winter's broken and earth has woken,

  And the small birds cry again;

And the hawthorn hedge puts forth its buds,

  And my heart puts forth its pain.

   Rupert Brooke. The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke. pp 75-76.

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