'twill not be spring

A poem for spring by my grandmother. Let's pretend I posted it in April. Also, let's pretend I can write even half as beautifully as she.
When April comes and you are far away,--
Bitter-sweet April with her smiles and tears--
When meadows freshened by their winter's sleep
And gently falling rain, awake to find
Blue violets lift shy heads among the grass;
When hardy crocus flaunts its gayest hues
Along the paths we loved; arbutus clings
Around our rock up on the farthest hill--
That rock we found last Spring when you were here--
When mad rain swoops across the sky
And leads a trail of sun behind;
When over all, the soft, sweet breath of Spring
Lies, bringing old memories of you--
My dear, my dear, where April comes to me
With you not here to share--'twill not be Spring!


  1. i thought you'd like that one! :)
    she was amazing. truly.

  2. April was too busy crying to let in the sun. I hope May is a happier girl, because I don't know if I can wait for June to drag her butt over here.

  3. you are gonna have some really nice flowers this year :)

  4. No matter the season, one should always flaunt her gayest hue.

    This is lovely and lyrical! I heart grandmas.

  5. OMG. Gorgeous. How humbling. She is excellent. I've read little snippets that youve posted in the past but this one is really beautiful.

  6. this may very well be my favorite of all.
    thought that is hard to say. maybe.

  7. I see the writing bug is hereditary. :) Very wonderful poem. (As are yours, my dear)

  8. thank you, my dear.
    you should read my grandmother's other poems.
    click "my grandmother" in the tag cloud.


Thank you for sharing your thoughts!