SPRING FANTASIES: 4. HORN AND VIOLIN by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON

IN the autumn, in the weather
Golden, bronzed, and rich with sighs,
When we paced the lanes together,
Dreamings deep were in your eyes.

Then, O Love, 'twas like the sounding
Of a mellow horn that blows
Veiled but vibrant, far-resounding
Through the paths the woodland knows.

But with May the magic changes,
And the music pants and pleads:
Like a violin it ranges
All the soul's insistent needs.

All the hopes and pent desires,
All the daring and the doubt;
Like to strong plucked strings, the fires
Of our spirits rushing out.

In the autumn, love seemed sober;
Dear, 'tis now a passioned thing;
As the horn is for October,
But the violin for spring.

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