Tired of waiting, you burst your bonds, impatient flowers, before br the winter had gone. Glimpses of the unseen comer reached your br wayside watch, and you rushed out running and panting, impulsive br jasmines, troops of riotous roses. br You were the first to march to the breach of death, your br clamour of colour and perfume troubled the air. You laughed and br pressed and pushed each other, bared your breast and dropped in br heaps. br The Summer will come in its time, sailing in the flood-tide br of the south wind. But you never counted slow moments to be sure br of him. You recklessly spent your all in the road, in the terrible br joy of faith. br You heard his footsteps from afar, and flung your mantle of br death for him to tread upon. Your bonds break even before the br rescuer is seen, you make him your own ere he can come and claim br you.