Classic Poem

Bitter was the winter,
Under the frozen gloom —
A tortured queen in prison —
Life cowered in the tomb.

Death in the limbs of Nature,
Fear in the hearts of men,
Until it seemed that nothing
Ever should live again!

Over this mummied fastness
The cowled days like nuns
Stealthily trod and vanished ...
Sudden a rumour runs —

An echo of bugles from Elfland,
The heralds of the King!
Into these lethean chambers
He rides . . It is the spring!

Easter has come to Kansas,
And through these prison bars
I count with joy at twilight
Three incandescent stars, —

And low athwart the sunset
A fleece of opal cloud
Floats in the vault of heaven —
Spun for an angel's shroud!

Falleth the Night with a fragrance
Blown from some new-mown lawn:
Unshackled, a spirit has risen!
Winter and Death are gone!

We who were dead awaken:
It could not be . . It is! . .
Bird-music in the valleys,
Bloom-glory in the trees!

Arise! my soul from prison, —
There is no death in earth!
Only a sleep and a dawning, —
Change, and a glad rebirth!