To the First Crocus

Brave Outrider, I cry thee Hail!
All pranckt in gold attire
To herald Spring-tide coming in,
And bid heart's carolling begin
To greet her hastening quire:

Sure any morn that now awakes
My sense from dreamful slumbers
I'll look to hear from yonder tree,
To hear and welcome with what glee,
My blackbird's liquid numbers!

Thou miracle of Spring begun!
Though hideous war's around us
Thy loveliness be ne'er forgot,
As thou thine advent stayest not,
Whatever ills confound us!

Let the insensate wit of man
Earth, sea, and air disorder,
Lo! Nature onward calmly wends
Her thwartless way to gracious ends,
Heed we or naught accord her.

Yet must I linger not, sweet flower,
Here dreaming on thy fairness:
Thou wast not sent to daze my sight
With a rare glory's sheer delight
Amid the season's bareness —

To warp my thought from stern resolve,
God helping me, of duty,
Alert with no rebellious heart
To play my poor appointed part,
Whate'er the lure of Beauty —

My part this hour that claims the life
Of England's grim devotion,
Till, crushed our base enslaving foe,
The banners of Freedom proudly show
O'er land, and air, and ocean.

Hail! and if now awhile Farewell!
O harbinger of gladness:
What thoughts, what hope thy memory'll bring
'Mid the day's dark importuning
And overstrain of sadness!
And toll of human madness!
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.