The young year sets the buds astir,
The old year strips the trees;
But ever in my lavender
I hear the brawling bees.
Song. "For me the jasmine buds unfold". [Florence Earle Coates]
For me the jasmine buds unfold
And silver daisies star the lea,
The crocus hoards the sunset gold,
And the wild rose breathes for me.
I feel the sap through the bough returning,
I share the skylark's transport fine,
I know the fountain's wayward yearning,
I love, and the world is mine!
I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved,
Still well remembered, grieve not me;
From all that darkened and deceived
Upsoars my spirit free.
For soft the hours repeat one story,
Sings the sea one strain divine;
My clouds arise all flushed with glory —
I love, and the world is mine!
Mother. [Theresa Helburn]
I have praised many loved ones in my song,
And yet I stand
Before her shrine, to whom all things belong,
With empty hand.
Perhaps the ripening future holds a time
For things unsaid;
Not now; men do not celebrate in rhyme
Their daily bread.
Songs for my Mother. [Anna Hempstead Branch]
I
Her Hands