O Hepatica, when will you beckon

to awaken me from Winter’s lull?

I implore you to quickly usurp her

ere her lingering rounds my lobes dull.

–

Sweet Anemone, wait not a second

to emerge from your ashen abode;

for I’ve already faded to torpor

and my cognizance starts to corrode.

–

Dear ephemeral sprite, do you reckon

I’ll escape her in spite of the cold?

For I rue that she holds me in stupor

but your blossom wood get me paroled.