Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
II. Nipped Buds Better Than Later DisappointmentsWilliam Henry Whitworth
W
To see spring buds of promise falling down,
As brief as they are fair, before the brown
And faded wreaths the last year’s tempest leaves?
There had the small birds on long summer eves
Sung, careless how sere Autumn, with his crown
Of amber beads and saffron-colored gown,
The widowed woods of all their bloom bereaves.
Yet are the happiest of the happy they
(Did they but know their happiness) who go
Before our hopes, those flowers of life, decay.
They rest as soft and silent as the snow
By the sea-shore on some calm winter’s day:
Alas! who would not wish the wind to blow!