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Wild
Garden
by
Bliss Carman
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A
SPRING MEMORY
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O my
dear, the world once more
Now is lovely as of yore!
Every laden apple bough
Blossoms in the orchard now,
And the hang-birds build and sing |
5 |
In
the paradise of spring.
Sweetly
falls the whispering rain
On earth’s loveliness again,
And the wood-thrush as of old
Sounds upon his flute of gold
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His
serene immortal psalm
Through the twilight’s pulsing calm.
All
the passion of old years,
All their sorrows, joys and fears,
Meet and blend in that fine strain,—
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Like
a mystical refrain
Of sheer rapture beyond thought,
Which no poet ever caught.
As
I listen, dearest dear,
Your transcending voice I hear,
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And
your joy comes back to me
In the fragrant lilac tree
Flowering at the open door
Of the House of Life once more.
Once
again I see you stand
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In the
field, and spread your hand
Over the wild rose to bless
Its beauty in your tenderness,—
And no poet ever told
Half the treasure heart can hold. |
30 |
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