Poem by William Watson

* * *

When birds were songless on the bough
    I heard thee sing.
The world was full of winter, thou
    Wert full of spring.

To-day the world's heart feels anew
    The vernal thrill,
And thine beneath the rueful yew
    Is wintry chill.

1. Lux Perdita
2. On Exaggerated Deference to Foreign Literary Opinion
3. Life without Health
4. Scentless Flow'rs I Bring Thee
5. The Glimpse

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