They greet me, with a glad surprise.
I love to touch thy velvety cheek,
And I almost fancy I hear thee speak.
Ah! well-a-day pansy, you and I
Must part, for the summer has gone by.
Soon in thy wintry bed thou’lt be,
And a mantle of snow will cover thee.
There shalt thou rest, till the spring-time rain
Awakes thee from thy sleep again;—
Then thou’lt come forth as fresh and bright,