The lilacs blossom at the door, The early rose Whispers a promise to her buds, And they unclose. There is a perfume everywhere, A breath of song, A sense of some divine return For waiting long. Who knows but some imprisoned joy From bondage breaks,— Some exiled and enchanted hope From dreams awakes? Who knows but you are coming back To comfort me For all the languor and the pain, Persephone? O come! For one brief spring return, Love's tryst to keep; Then let me share the Stygian fruit, The wintry sleep!
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