Burst ice and rime
In equinoctial splendour!
Up leapt Winter and stared with his hand over his brows.
Down below in the valley stood the Prince of Spring, young and straight, in his green garb, with the lute slung over his shoulder. His long hair waved in the wind, his face was soft and round, his mouth was ever smiling, his eyes were dreamy and moist.
THE SECOND MEETING