Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/81
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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.
In April
Now I am Life's victim—
Cruel victor is he
Who lashes me with color
Until I ache to see.
Cruel victor is he
Who lashes me with color
Until I ache to see.
Who chokes me with fragrance
Of green things in the rain—
Like a hand around my throat
So sudden is the pain.
Of green things in the rain—
Like a hand around my throat
So sudden is the pain.
Life, I am at your mercy;
And though till I am dead
You torture me with April
I will not bow my head!
And though till I am dead
You torture me with April
I will not bow my head!
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