Response

There is a music of immaculate love, That beats within the virgin veins of Spring, And trillium blossoms, like the stars that cling To fairies' wands; and, strung on sprays above, White-hearts and mandrake blooms that look enough Like the elves' washing white with laundering Of May-moon dews; and all pale-opening Wild-flowers of the woods are born thereof. There is no sod Spring's white foot brushes but Must feel the music that vibrates within, And thrill to the communicated touch Responsive harmonies, that must unshut The heart of Beauty for Song's concrete kin, Emotions that are flowers born of such.