Poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

Shorter Poems. Book V. 7. The Palm Willow

See, whirling snow sprinkles the starvèd fields,
          The birds have stayed to sing;
No covert yet their fairy harbour yields.
            When cometh Spring?
Ah! in their tiny throats what songs unborn
            Are quenched each morn.

The lenten lilies, through the frost that push,
          Their yellow heads withhold:
The woodland willow stands a lonely bush
            Of nebulous gold;
There the Spring-goddess cowers in faint attire
            Of frightened fire.

1. Shorter Poems. Book II. 4. Wooing
2. Shorter Poems. Book III. 16. Song (I love my lady’s eyes)
3. Shorter Poems. Book I. 17. Triolet (All women born are so perverse)
4. Shorter Poems. Book II. 8. Spring. Ode I
5. Shorter Poems. Book IV. 25. “Say Who Is This with Silvered Hair”

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