Ask Me Again

I said you nay, dear Love,
When weary winter winds
Wailed o'er the wold,
And silver frost berimed
The hedge's leaves,
While winter star-light
Fell about us, cold;
But, now, that primrose
Stars the greening turf
And jonquil's yellow cup
Lifts 'bove the mold
My heart is stirred
By some unbidden thing,
Is warm and sweet
Where once 'twas dark and cold;
For now the sky takes on
A warmer hue,
And redbirds in the thickets sing.
Like flower to sun,
My fancy turns to you;
Ask me again, it's spring!

^__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos