When o’er the land the breath of morning came, The world was filled with blissful radiancy. The news of fresh arrivals filled the glade, And the trees ranged themselves in serried ranks. And everything that in the garden grew Was seared and mildewed by the past distress, And yet anew life’s waters woke again, And all was tinged with Spring’s perennial green, Though all in death had lain for many a day, Now living once again they raised their hand, And everything with ardent passion throbbed. And the East Wind came by with soft approach, And benediction followed on his course. And all the flowers their faces showed again, And over all the light of summer shone. The cypresses wore garments of delight, And danced in many a ring along the mead And each narcissus started from its sleep. The tulips raised again their shining brows, And as war’s cruel visage disappeared The land again was peopled as of yore. And when King Winter in the sunlight saw The people of the land come back again, And that the meadows which he had o’errun Were finally relinquished to the foe, He was o’ercome with grief and shame and ire, And heated by the sense of his defeat. The snow, o’ercome by advent of the Spring, In utter shame betook itself to earth. In sooth, already had it drabbled o’er The rose garden with her enkindled wrath, For snow now felt itself o’ermastered, weak; His host was overcome at every point. And as the snow dissolved into the ground, A flood of tears was spread on every field. The Winter could no longer stand his ground, And rapidly he started in retreat. He turned him back again toward the West, And gave up occupancy of the land. And on the land the light of justice shone And truth prevailed and error was abashed. And as Spring’s herald occupied the land, King Spring himself returned to claim his own He took his seat once more upon his throne, And then his herald vanished from the scene. XLIX THE MONARCH SPRING MOUNTS UPON HIS THRONE AND MAKES HIS RESIDENCE IN THE CITY OF THE ROSE GARDEN