The vivid grass with visible delight
Springing triumphant from the pregnant earth;
The butterflies, and sparrows in brief flight
Chirping and dancing for the season's birth,
And dandelions and rare daffodils
That hold the deep-stirred heart with hands of gold
And thrushes sending forth their joyous trills;
Not these, not these did I at first behold;
But, seated on the benches daubed with green,
The human derelicts, some fast asleep,
With here and there a woman wedged between,
And, over all, life's shadows dark and deep:
Moaning I turned away, for misery
I have the strength to bear but not to see.