Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1921/Blossom-Time
SPRING FROM A WINDOW
Blossom-Time
So long as there is April
My heart is high,
Lifting up its white dreams
To the sky.
My heart is high,
Lifting up its white dreams
To the sky.
As trees hold up their blossoms
In a blowing cloud,
My hands are reaching,
My hands are proud.
In a blowing cloud,
My hands are reaching,
My hands are proud.
All the crumbled splendors
Of autumn, and the cries
Of winds that I remember
Cannot make me wise.
Of autumn, and the cries
Of winds that I remember
Cannot make me wise.
Like the trees of April
Fearless and fair—
My heart swings its censers
Through the golden air.
Fearless and fair—
My heart swings its censers
Through the golden air.