Song of the Spirits of Spring
I. Wafted o'er purple seas, From gold Hesperides, Mixed with the southern breeze, Hail to us spirits! Dripping with fragrant rains, Fire of our ardent veins, Life of the barren plains, Woodlands and germs that the woodland inherits. II. Wan as the creamy mist, Tinged with pale amethyst, Warm with the sun that kissed Vine-tangled mountains Looming o'er tropic lakes, Where ev'ry air that shakes Tamarisk coverts makes Music that haunts like the falling of fountains. III. Swift are our flashing feet, Fleet with the winds that meet, Winds that, blown, billow sweet, And with light porous, Boom with the drunken bees, Sigh with the surge of seas, Rush with the rush of trees, Birds and wild wings and of torrents sonorous. IV. Stars in our liquid eyes, Stars of the darkest skies, And on our fingers lies Starlight; and shadows, Unmooned, of nights that creep Hide in our tresses deep, And in our limbs white sleep Dreams like a baby in asphodel meadows. V. Music of many streams, Strength of a million beams, Fire and sainted dreams, Murmuring lowly, Pulse on hot lips of light, Which, what they kiss of blight, Quicken and blossom white, Raise to be beautiful, perfect, and holy. VI. Oh, will you sit and wait, When fields, erst desolate, Now are intoxicate With life that flowers? Purple with love and rife With their fierce budded life, Passion and rosy strife Drained from warm winds and the turbulent showers? VII. Nay! at our feet you'll lie: For the winds lullaby, For our completest sky, And largess flying Of pinky pearls of blooms, For the one bee that booms, And the warm-spilled perfumes Forget for a moment already we're dying!
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