 | Poems of Charles Warren Stoddard . |  |
80
RESURGAM
Shall I behold, what time the snows distill
In the soft wind along these silver boughs,
Crisp bud and curling leaf—the golden house
Of robin red-breast and the whip-poor-will?
Shall I behold the sudden pulse, the thrill,
As the rich blood, long dormant, 'gins to rouse
Among the meadows where the cattle browse,
Sad-eyed and tranquil, while they take their fill?
In the soft wind along these silver boughs,
Crisp bud and curling leaf—the golden house
Of robin red-breast and the whip-poor-will?
Shall I behold the sudden pulse, the thrill,
As the rich blood, long dormant, 'gins to rouse
Among the meadows where the cattle browse,
Sad-eyed and tranquil, while they take their fill?
Shall I behold again, shall I behold
The slumbering dead that waken as of old
At sound of a still voice that quickeneth?
There will I hymn thee to the very skies,
Spirit of lovely Spring! I will arise—
I will arise from out this shadow of death.
The slumbering dead that waken as of old
At sound of a still voice that quickeneth?
There will I hymn thee to the very skies,
Spirit of lovely Spring! I will arise—
I will arise from out this shadow of death.
| Poems of Charles Warren Stoddard . | |