A Book of Myths, by Jean Lang - Umnet

the feet of those who never again would tread on the soft grass and
flowers of an earthly meadow. Yet when Demeter had braved all the
shadows of Hades, only in part was her end accomplished. In part only
was Proserpine now her child, for while half her heart was in the
sunshine, rejoicing in the beauties of earth, the other half was with the
god who had taken her down to the Land of Darkness and there had
won her for his own. Back to the flowery island of Sicily her mother
brought her, and the peach trees and the almonds blossomed snowily as
she passed. The olives decked themselves with their soft grey leaves,
the corn sprang up, green and lush and strong. The lemon and orange
groves grew golden with luscious fruit, and all the land was carpeted
with flowers. For six months of the year she stayed, and gods and men
rejoiced at the bringing back of Proserpine. For six months she left her
green and pleasant land for the dark kingdom of him whom she loved,
and through those months the trees were bare, and the earth chill and
brown, and under the earth the flowers hid themselves in fear and
awaited the return of the fair daughter of Demeter.
And evermore has she come and gone, and seedtime and harvest have
never failed, and the cold, sleeping world has awaked and rejoiced, and
heralded with the song of birds, and the bursting of green buds and the
blooming of flowers, the resurrection from the dead--the coming of
spring.
"Time calls, and Change Commands both men and gods, and speeds us
on We know not whither; but the old earth smiles Spring after spring,
and the seed bursts again Out of its prison mould, and the dead lives
Renew themselves, and rise aloft and soar And are transformed,
clothing themselves with change, Till the last change be done."
Lewis Morris.
FOOTNOTE:
[5] Jean Ingelow.