Deaf to the Spring

If sighing in the snow, deaf to the spring,
A bud's uncovered by the growing thaw,
And, if the melt reveals any more
Of this black earth; then will the robins sing
Their epitaph to winter that's not done;
It soon returns with blizzards that will chill,
And burn each budding plant with such ill-will,
Until it's sure that rebirth's not begun;
Demeter's spread the icy cold: she'll mourn
Persephone who'll never be released;
Hades constrains her; it is no surprise
It's cold outside and his bondage won't warm
A bud uncovered: leisurely he'll feast,
Deaf to the spring. The snow echoes her sighs.