Because of Jonquils

A ray of jonquils thrills the grey
And frowning winter of a room . . .
Out from the depths of an old day
A burst of spring-light cuts its way,
Lifting the vague perfume
Of walled-in gardens long, long dumb,
Of blooms that never bloomed at all . . .
Then quickly, as autumn's keen winds come,
Shadows, like dead leaves, fall.