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The Human Inheritance

The New Hope, Motherhood. By William Sharp
Sharp, William,1855-1905
  
[epigraph]
  
[dedication]

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[section]
  
To E. A. S.
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THE HUMAN INHERITANCE.
  
[prologue]
 I. 
CYCLE I. CHILDHOOD'S INHERITANCE.
 II. 
CYCLE II. YOUTH'S INHERITANCE.
 III. 
CYCLE III. MANHOOD AND WOMANHOOD'S INHERITANCE.
 IV. 
CYCLE IV. OLD AGE'S INHERITANCE.
  
THE NEW HOPE.
  
MOTHERHOOD.
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TRANSCRIPTS FROM NATURE.
 I. 
I. SUNRISE ABOVE BROAD WHEAT-FIELDS.
 II. 
II. THE STONE-BREAKER.
 III. 
III. WILD-ROSES.
 IV. 
IV. LIGHT OF THE SETTING SUN ON MOUNTAIN-ASH BERRIES.
 V. 
V. PINE-WOODS.
 VI. 
VI. THE WINDMILL.
 VII. 
VII. SEA-WRACK.
 VIII. 
VIII. THE BLUE HERON.
 IX. 
IX. SHELLS ON THE SEA-SHORE.
 X. 
X. THE NIGHTINGALE.
 XI. 
XI. THE SWOLLEN RIVER.
 XII. 
XII. MOONLIGHT AT SEA.
 XIII. 
XIII. A DEAD CALM AND MIST.
 XIV. 
XIV. LABOURERS RETURNING HOME.
 XV. 
XV. A GREEN WAVE.
 XVI. 
XVI. MORNING GLORY.
 XVII. 
XVII. DAWN AMID SCOTCH FIRS.
 XVIII. 
XVIII. GROUND-LIGHTNING.
 XIX. 
XIX. THE EBBING TIDE.
 XX. 
XX. THE INCOMING TIDE.
 XXI. 
XXI. TWO OLD YEWS.
 XXII. 
XXII. PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. (I.)
 XXIII. 
XXIII. PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. (II.)
 XXIV. 
XXIV. PHOSPHORESCENT SEA. (III.)
 XXV. 
XXV. MOUNTAIN MISTS.
 XXVI. 
XXVI. MOONRISE.
 XXVII. 
XXVII. MOONRISE.
 XXVIII. 
XXVIII. MOONRISE.
 XXIX. 
XXIX.—PINES IN STORM.
 XXX. 
XXX.—THE LONELY LARCH.
  
THE TIDES OF VENICE.
  
A DIALOGUE.
  
DESOLATION.
  
CHRISTMAS-EVE.
  
LIFE.
  
SIGHT.
  
YOUNG LOVE.
  
DREAM LAND.
  
A GREETING
  
REVELATION.
  
POSSIBILITIES.
  
PAIN.
  
BEN-A-CHAOLAIS
  
SPRING-WIND.
  
TO THE SPIRIT CALLED LAUDANUM.
  
LINES.
  
THE REDEEMER.
  
LAST WORDS.

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178

SPRING-WIND.

O full-voiced herald of immaculate Spring,
With clarion gladness striking every tree
To answering raptures, as a resonant sea
Fills rock-bound shores with thunders echoing—
O thou, each beat of whose tempestuous wing
Shakes the long winter-sleep from hill and lea,
And rouses with loud reckless jubilant glee
The birds that have not dared as yet to sing:
O wind, that comest with prophetic cries,
Hast thou indeed beheld the face that is
The joy of poets and the glory of birds—
Spring's face itself: hast thou 'neath bluer skies
Met the warm lips that are the gates of bliss,
And heard June's leaf-like murmur of sweet words?
 

Reprinted from Mr. T. Hall Caine's Sonnets of Three Centuries. (Elliot Stock. 1882.)

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