The Bridal Wreath's Lament

O! woe, ah! bitter woe for us,
Who did the foolish thing,
To trust our folded leaves and buds
To the first warm sun of Spring.

Up from the lagoons of the South,
From lake and flowers about,
Came soft, deceitful, sighing winds
And gently called us out.

They whispered strange Floridian tales,
Of bayous and the brake,
Of Spring's aroma and the rose,
And bade us to awake.

The sun, so old of many Springs,
Looked down on us and smiled,
And all our foolish swelling buds
To leaf and flower beguiled.

We rivaled the Japonicas
Which budded half in doubt,
But reassured by southern winds,
Fast sought to beat us out.

And O! we spread our leaves and buds
Up to the open sky,
And looked with condescension on
Our lagging neighbors by.

Bedecked in all our finery,
And blind with foolish pride,
We laughed unconscious of our doom,
And of our woe betide.

But swift and stealthily as comes
A lurking foe at night,
Without a warning note swept down
A storm with bitter blight.

Now all the highway and the plain
Lie covered up with snow,
The sun is hid and leaden clouds,
Look down on all below.

Deceitful zephyrs of the south,
Where are your kisses now?
The snowflakes make our winding sheet,
And death is on our brow.

But soon the true warm Spring will come,
And violets in their beds
Will bloom: And flauntingly will
Lift the tulips up their heads.

The gladsome Summer-time will come,
The Summer winds will sigh,
A thousand brilliant flowers will bloom
Beneath a Summer sky.

But we, O vain and foolish buds!
Who did the foolish thing,
To trust our folded leaves and flowers
To the first warm sun of Spring,
So premature must pass away
To nothingness for time and aye.