It only needed the keen and crystal call
Of the golden-plover
To sing through the wintry dark of her heart, and all
Its life awaken,
Releasing its icy grief in a rain of tears.

Dumbly her heart had brooded, since the fall,
On her dead lover:
But April awakened for her at that crystal call;
And her bosom was shaken
By the urge of the Spring, and quickened with hopes and fears.