While we are in the calm and proud procession of eternal things.
ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON
MAKING HASTE
"Soon!" says the Snowdrop, and smiles at the motherly earth,
"Soon!—for the Spring with her languors comes stealthily on
Snow was my cradle, and chill winds sang at my birth;
Winter is over—and I must make haste to be gone!"
"Soon," says the Swallow, and dips to the wind-ruffled stream,