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Classic and Contemporary Poetry


THE CYCLE by EDITH MACDONALD GRAHAM

First Line: FORGOTTEN NOW ALL THINGS BENEATH THE SNOW
Last Line: BIRD'S WING WITH LUPIN'S HUE; TO UNLEASH SONG.

Forgotten now all things beneath the snow,
This is their time of sweet release -- they sleep,
Shaping in dreams tomorrow's rose, her leaf;
Tomorrow's breathless June. Alone they keep
The universal rhythm in their breasts.

While I regain the loveliness of earth's
Intent, which through the summer's leafage I
Had lost; regain the beauty of bare boughs,
So satin-smooth, so suave against the sky,
So black against the apricot of dusk;

Regain the far horizon's rim, its line
Of crumpled blue, regain this crystal air
That draws an echoed sweetness from all things
Around; this healing silence that I share
With time; this paradox of frozen sound.

Yet even now there is an urge within
This fettered world -- a power longing to
Be free, to burgeon in an opulence
Of bud, of bloom; to match the flash of blue
Bird's wing with lupin's hue; to unleash song.



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