 | Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell |  |
261
XIII. APRIL DAYS.
O tender Springs, sweet April days,
Heralds of fair and flow'ry Mays,
When daffodils that dare the cold,
Make every meadow gleam like gold,
And violets scent the woodland ways,
Heralds of fair and flow'ry Mays,
When daffodils that dare the cold,
Make every meadow gleam like gold,
And violets scent the woodland ways,
Ye have a spell dead years to raise,
And bring them up before the gaze,
Clothed in the grace they wore of old,
O tender Springs!
And bring them up before the gaze,
Clothed in the grace they wore of old,
O tender Springs!
Out of the dim past's misty haze
There come forth those far “yesterdays,”
When life was yet a tale untold,
Sorrows but few,—joys manifold,
And all my songs were psalms of praise,
O tender Springs!
There come forth those far “yesterdays,”
When life was yet a tale untold,
Sorrows but few,—joys manifold,
And all my songs were psalms of praise,
O tender Springs!
| Poems Old and New by Charles D. Bell | |