April Rise

If ever I saw blessing in the air I see it now in this still early day Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye. Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod Splutters with soapy green, and all the world Sweats with the bead of summer in its bud. If ever I heard blessing it is there Where birds in trees that shoals and shadows are Splash with their hidden wings and drops of sound Break on my ears their crests of throbbing air. Pure in the haze the emerald sun dilates, The lips of sparrows milk the mossy stones, While white as water by the lake a girl Swims her green hand among the gathered swans. Now, as the almond burns its smoking wick, Dropping small flames to light the candled grass; Now, as my low blood scales its second chance, If ever world were blessed, now it is.