Do you remember, dearest, that wild eve,
When March came blustering; o'er the land?
We stood together, hand in hand,
Watching the slate-gray waters heave—
Hearing despairing boughs behind us grieve.
It seemed as I, no forest voice was dumb.
All Nature joining in one cry;
The Ampélopsis Veitchii,
Giving gray hints of green to come,
Shrank o'er the leafless Prunus Avium.