In Divers Tones

by Charles G.D. Roberts

Edited by Tracy Ware


 

A HERALD


 

Ere the Spring comes near
   O’er the smoking hills,
   Stirring a million rills
To laughter low and clear
Till winds are hushed to hear,—
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Ere the eaves at noon
   Thaw and drip, there flies
   A herald through the skies
With promise of a boon—
Of birds and blossoms soon.
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Subtle though it be,
   Yet sweetly sure that word;—
   E’en such my soul hath heard
(Over life’s frosty lea)
Of Immortality.
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