The Dirge

Old winter was gone In his weakness back to the mountains hoar, And the spring came down From the planet that hovers upon the shore Where the sea of sunlight encroaches On the limits of wintry night;-- If the land, and the air, and the sea, Rejoice not when spring approaches, We did not rejoice in thee, Ginevra! She is still, she is cold On the bridal couch, One step to the white deathbed, And one to the bier, And one to the charnel--and one, oh where?…