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Poem by Edith Wharton


Song (Come, for the leaf is alight)


Come, for the leaf is alight on the bough,
Like a bird from the blue still aquiver from flight,
And but now was the day of the crocus, but now
With wind-flowers the mould of the woodland was white;
Aprils here, Spring is here, hope is on the wing!

Come, for the primroses spangle the slope
By the stream that is red from the rush of the rains,
And the footstep in drifts of dead oak-leaves agrope
May bruise the anemones exquisite veins;
Aprils here, hope is here, nows the heart of Spring!

Part the dead pine-needleslo, the live grass!
Mark, where the clouds break the burst of the blue
Through the old brambles young ivy-shoots pass,
And after each shower the worlds born anew.
Aprils here, Spring is here, hope is on the wing!
Aprils here, hope is here, nows the heart of Spring!



Edith Wharton


Edith Wharton's other poems:
  1. Chartres
  2. Happiness
  3. With the Tide
  4. The Parting Day
  5. Mould and Vase


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