Untruth

poem

Iris Shaw

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Spring where I am is young and a liar –

It comes and it lies

It goes and tells tales

And leaves in the night with a laugh.

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Only yesterday, you see, the wind blew me

down the street on the tips of my toes

As I sailed past the houses my nose

grew red, and in the cold I smelt spring.

A leaf that looked like a robin

blew across the brown grass, and perched;

When I stared, it toppled over.

And yet, as spring is a liar

I never saw it again

for it snowed this morning, or else

in the night, the wind took it away

To fool someone else tomorrow.