No sea-gulls fly in the ice-bound bay. They feel that Spring is not yet here; And they follow the sea-craft far away, Longing daily for harbor and pier. Had I learned the wisdom of such a bird As I glimpsed the white expanse of your soul And not rushed on—your beauty lured, As I saw in the future the ultimate goal— Had I waited until the ice was away, This chilly mist would not rise each day.
Henrietta Clarke's "Premature" is a short regret dressed up as a nature scene. The speaker looks at a frozen bay where no gulls are flying. The birds seem to know it's too early for spring, so they trail the ships far out to sea and wait for harbor and pier to be usable again. The speaker then admits to being less sensible. Dazzled by someone's beauty, and already picturing a happy ending, they rushed ahead and missed the "white expanse" of the other person's soul, which the poem suggests was cold and closed at that moment. The title says it all: the mistake was timing.
The mood is quiet, rueful, and a little chilly. The final couplet makes the idea concrete with the "chilly mist" that rises every day, a lingering damp sadness that the speaker believes patience could have prevented.