The Crab-Tree

Spring comes anew, and brings each little pledge

That still, as wont, my childish heart deceives;

I stoop again for violets in the hedge,

Among the ivy and old withered leaves;

And often mark, amid the clumps of sedge,

The pooty-shells I gathered when a boy:

But cares have claimed me many an evil day,

And chilled the relish which I had for joy.

Yet when Crab-blossoms blush among the May,

As erst in years gone by, I scramble now

Up ’mid the bramble for my old esteems,

Filling my hands with many a blooming bough;

Till the heart-stirring past as present seems,

Save the bright sunshine of those fairy dreams.