Where Are the Springs of Long Ago?

Come near, O sun—O south wind, blow,
And be the winter’s captives freed;
Where are the springs of long ago?

Drive under ground the lingering snow,
And up the greensward legions lead;
Come near, O sun—O south wind, blow!

Are these the skies we used to know,
The budding wood, the fresh-blown mead?
Where are the springs of long ago?

The breathing furrow will we sow,
And patient wait the patient seed;
Come near, O sun—O south wind, blow!

The grain of vanished years will grow,
But not the vanished years, indeed!
Where are the springs of long ago?

With sodden leafage, lying low,
They for remembrance faintly plead!
Come near, O sun—O south wind, blow!
Where are the springs of long ago?

Edith M. Thomas.