Feminine

She might have known it in the earlier Spring,—   That all my heart with vague desire was stirred; And, ere the Summer winds had taken wing,   I told her; but she smiled and said no word. The Autumn’s eager hand his red gold grasped,   And she was silent; till from skies grown drear Fell soft one fine, first snow-flake, and she clasped   My neck and cried, “Love, we have lost a year!”