TO A FRENCH POET AND REFUGEE

[ZaunköniG]

TO A FRENCH POET AND REFUGEE.

The time is past—that time of Httle cheer,
When all the hedgerows ran in naked lines ;
And all the leafless landscape, far and near,
Seem'd a rough sketch, to foil the celandines ;
'Tis morn—'tis May ! arouse thy drooping powers.
Sing of the bright June-roses ere they come,
Anticipate the Summer's blowing flowers.
Till thy sweet words seem bursting into bloom ;
Dear poet-exile ! greet the year's advance !
Yield not to grief, but with a hymn of praise
Salute the season and these cloudless days ;
And, when the sunset shall constrain thy gaze,
Then, with the closing flowers and setting rays.
Bemoan the sorrows and defeats of France.