Renewal
C
Charles Hanson Towne
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April, when I heard
Your lyrical low word,
And when upon the hawthorn hedge your first white blossoms stirred,
Something strangely came--
Something I cannot name--
And touched my heart, and cleansed my soul with a reviving flame.
When the yellow gleam
Of your hosts that stream--
Jonquil, buttercup, and crocus--made the world a golden dream,
Something, April, said
To my heart that bled--
Bled with old remembrance--'Lo! the grief-strewn days are fled!
Sursum corda!
Now,
When blooms the apple-bough,
April, of your pity, let your light rain kiss my brow;
Heal me, if you will;
Bathe my heart until
I am one with your first primrose or the shining daffodil.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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