SPRING'S SECRETS
| As once I paused
on poet wing In the green heart of a grove, I met the Spirit of the Spring With her great eyes lit of love. She took me gently by the hand And whispered in my wondering ear Secrets none may understand, Till she make their meaning clear; Why the primrose looks so pale, Why the rose is set with thorns; Why the magic nightingale Through the darkness mourns and mourns; How the angels, as they pass In their vesture pure and white O'er the shadowy garden grass, Touch the lilies into light; How their hidden hands upbear The fledgling throstle in the air, And lift the lowly lark on high, And hold him singing in the sky; What human hearts delight her most; The careless child with roses crowned, The mourner, knowing that his lost Shall in the Eternal Spring be found. |