Wild Garden

by Bliss Carman


 

A SPRING MEMORY


 

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
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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.
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