WHEN
It is when the trees have such radiant flowers,
Such white and rosy showers,
Such fragrant whispering,—
It is when the sun lights such mellow, yellow hours,—
For lovers love the Spring!
It is when the moon is so pale and drifting,
Blossoms softly sifting
From the vines that climb and cling,
That my heart will stop to hear love's laughter lifting,—
For lovers love the Spring!
It is when the long evenings, their haze of violet wearing,
Hold the passing voices as on music's throbbing string,
By some vague open window I shall sit long staring,—
For lovers love the Spring!
CHILDREN
Children, we played at games—your laughter still is round me.
Children, we called each other's names. I hid—you found me.
Children, we went in search of death, and came back often.
Children, we prayed with equal breath—no time can soften!
Children, I loved your pretty looks, your eyebrow lifted.
Children, we wandered story-books and star-dust sifted.
Children, we plucked amazing flowers in a walled garden.
Children, we dreamed through healing hours—no time can harden!