in spring new horrors

few are the leaves and buds late on these trees

that heart grows weak and even time might ail

as weathers slowly change while the clouds sail

above our heads driven by random breeze

towards the east nothing that wants to please

our needy minds as this brief cold must fail

the warmth return before our hopes turn stale

and just in time our anger turn to ease

but in the night some matters are too deep

for ordinary dreams and break my rest

to let me know that there is no mistake

relief shall not be granted by kind sleep

the warmth of bed is not a comfy nest

but there are worse fates than coming awake