Spring Song by Edith Wharton O primavera! Gioventit dell anno. The first warm buds that break their covers, The first young twigs that burst in green, The first blade that the sun discovers, Starting the loosened earth between. The pale soft sky, so clear and tender, With little clouds that break and fly; The crocus, earliest pretender To the low breezes passing by; The chirp and twitter of brown builders, A couple in a tree, at least; The watchful wisdom of the elders For callow younglings in the nest; The flush of branches with fair blossoms, The deepening of the faint green boughs, As leaf by leaf the crown grows fuller That binds the young Springs rosy brows; New promise every day of sweetness, The next bright dawn is sure to bring; Slow breaking into green completeness, Fresh rapture of the early Spring!
Posted on: Fri, 18 Apr 2014 08:00:43 +0000
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