I agree with Jan about S2, especially its first line, with fire rising to the defense of winter. Without wishing to spoil the unusually regular pentameter of S3L4, “we walkers wonder it might disappear” seems to be missing a “whether” or “if.” You can always plead poetic license, of course. “Spring” should be lowercased, btw.
As a spring basher, you’re in good company. This is from Pushkin’s poem “Autumn”:
This time is mine: the spring I can’t abide;
the thaw, the stench, the mud—spring makes me queasy;
the blood is restless; yearning grips the mind.
The winter, so austere, has more to please me …
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