by John Vance Cheney
Hast seen the morn, the first light in his eyes,
Look loveliness along the sullen skies?
Hast marked spent day, slow journeying, backward turn,
Though, one by one, the stars begin to burn?
Hast seen the dream-shapes, pale with winter yet,
Warming wood-spaces for the violet?
Hast heard the spring-song on the wild March air,
And all the world 's a lover listening there?
Hast heard the lay the bush-bird long did keep,
Only, at last, to sing it in his sleep?
Hast heard the brook, where all the boughs are old,
Run under them, lulling the leafy fold?
Not yet thou knowest beauty, melody;
They wait the day Love comes and speaks to thee.
Last updated September 07, 2017