 | Flower o' the thorn |  |
110
MAY-MAGIC.
BUILDING birds
And the air brim-full of a bliss that is overgreat for words!
But yesternight I was old and now I again am young;
The Spring with its coals of fire hath loosened my lips and my tongue.
And the air brim-full of a bliss that is overgreat for words!
But yesternight I was old and now I again am young;
The Spring with its coals of fire hath loosened my lips and my tongue.
I sing as I go;
For the world is washed and white of the soil of the Winter's woe;
My soul, that was sad and stained with sorrow but yesterday,
Is pure as the primrose-eyes and glad as the glittering May.
For the world is washed and white of the soil of the Winter's woe;
My soul, that was sad and stained with sorrow but yesterday,
Is pure as the primrose-eyes and glad as the glittering May.
Life strives with Death:
The sun that eases the world of the East Wind's Borgia-breath,
And the quiver of Earth reborn that quickens the hope in my heart
And stirs it to strife anew, when peace were the better part!
The sun that eases the world of the East Wind's Borgia-breath,
And the quiver of Earth reborn that quickens the hope in my heart
And stirs it to strife anew, when peace were the better part!
| Flower o' the thorn | |