On The Barrier

ON the Barrier Ranges, Grim, and grey and old, Spring, the Maid of Wonder, Spreads her cloth-of-gold; Every hill and hollow Carpeting with flowers — O for feet to follow Through the shining hours! Once I saw the damsel — Watched her at her task, Basking in her glamour As the lizards bask: And, if I remember Aught of gleam and glow, 'Tis that sweet September Twenty years ago. Twenty golden springtides — Much — and yet how slight Measured with that region, Hollow-land and height; Biding through Earth's changes, Steadfast to its shocks, Oldest of the Ranges, Ancientest of Rocks! If with sweet recurrence Youth renews the Earth, Shall there come no glory — Light and song and mirth — Unto us who ponder Much on banished joys? Spring, thou Maid of Wonder. Make us girls and boys!