The snow has passed, the crocus blooms,
A swelling tide of life returns;
Green lights invade the forest glooms,
All nature wakes and yearns.
The breeze lifts and the ships take wing
To havens which we long have known;
And yet—and yet I dread the spring,
For fear you may be gone.
Life gives us sweet delights and then
Gathers them back and buries them deep.
Oh, wanton hearts, that kill them when
They do not tire or sleep.
The breeze lifts and the ships take wing—
Be with me through the spring.
DESOLATE SCYTHIA
Χθονὀς μεν ἐς τηλουρὀν ἥκομεν πεδον—Aes.
When there are no distances in music,
No far off things suggested of faery forests or celestial heights;
When nothing undiscovered stands back of the written page,
And the landscape contains nothing hidden,
And no alluring spirits of further places;
When no more in eyes shines the light of mystery,
And the thrill of discovered kinships
Has fallen into the familiar recognition
That takes all men and women
As daily associates of an accustomed world,
Then you have come to the uttermost plain of earth
Where lie the rocks of desolate Scythia.
THE SEARCH
When the hill grows green at midway time,
And bronze buds toss in the lane
It is sweet to follow the river swallow
Where the tiles are red from rain.
When the slanting wind shakes apple blossoms,
And the willow trees are bowed
The balcony banners flutter up
Where sails the hilltop cloud.
The balcony banners are ever the same
Wherever the heart may stray;
One sports the tiger and one the dragon
Whether you weep or play.
Where Little Boy Blue and the Knave of Hearts
And the Goose Girl dance on the green;
Where Knights in red and gold ride forth
Guarding the King and Queen;
Where the glint of swords is the only light
On a passing storm of men;
Or where the Furies rocking wait
For the world to die again;
Where horsemen ride by the winding river
Galloping in the quest:
One wears black and one wears yellow,
And one in red is dressed.