February, 1900

Spring and the flowers return. The world is gay,
Once more the old sun on the ancient earth
Shines forth and brings a million buds to birth.
Where are those sons of ours we sent away?
Spring and the flowers return— but where are they?
Tarry, hard Winter, ice-bound, stiff, and gray,
Thou art as we are, full of darkest fears,
Weep with us — let us feel thy chilly tears!
We are not fit for joy. We can but say,
"Spring and the flowers return— but where are they?"