BEFORE THE HOUR, a poem

UNTIMELY blossom! poor, impatient thing,
     That starting rashly from the sheltering mould
     Bravest the peevish wind and sullen cold,
     Mistaking thine own ardors for the spring!—
Thou to my heart a memory dost bring
     Of hopes once fair like thee, like thee too bold
     To breathe their fragrance, and their flowers unfold,
     That droop'd, of wintry rigors languishing.

Nor birds, nor bees, nor waters murmuring low,
     Nor breezes blown from any Arcady,
     Found they,—earth's welcome waiting to bestow;
Yet sweet, they felt, sweeter than dreams, would be
     The summer they had sought too soon to know,—
     The summer they should never live to see!

"Before the Hour" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (June 1891), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume I.