Classic Poem

It must be I am mistaken; one bird note
Cannot have all this power upon my heart,
To which the breath of violin-swept symphonies,
Or clarioned concertos,
Has merely been as music, muted or mighty!

Winter has gone, I know; but how can spring,
That has not come, suddenly blossom through me,
Leafily,
Because one little lark upon a limb
Ripples his throat?

I am too near nature's creative rapture;
I am caught by it — I who have sought to capture
How can I walk again on heels and toes,
Who have winged with poetry beyond all prose!