  I HAVE watched her at the window Through long days of snow and wind, Till I learnt to love the shadow That would flit across her blind. ’Twixt the lime-tree’s leafless branches In the dusk my eyes I’d strain: Now the boughs are thick with foliage,— Tiresome Spring! you’ve come again! Now, behind that screen of verdure Is my angel lost to view; And no longer for the robins Will her white hands bread-crumbs strew. Never in the frosts of winter, Did those robins beg in vain; Now, alas! the snow has melted,— ’Tis kind winter that I wish for;— How I long to hear the hail Rattling on deserted pavements, Dancing in the stormy gale! For I then could see her windows, Watch my darling through each pane Now the lime-trees are in blossom,— Tiresome Spring! you’ve come again! BÉranger. |
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