Spring's Termination

What a black cloud is gathering in heaven's dome!
From the blue dome the fierce rain dashes downward,
And the Septentrion furies, rushing wildly,
Visit with ruin all earth's loveliest things.

Lo! the rose droops upon its wounded stem—
The rude shower breaks the beautiful cup of odours
Hung on the emerald pillar—and the lilies
Bend down their snowy heads, and weep, and die.

E'en the sweet solitary violet, crush'd,
Scatters no more its wonted dews of fragrance
O'er the dark forest turf. All, all departed,
All the transporting charms of early spring.