YES, I am here! I flower in all the trees, I touch your lips with soft and lavish air, I waft my fragrance on the passing breeze— And my despair! And my despair; for, as I come, I go— And whence I come you know, and whither, know; Lo, fruit must follow, ripe and round and fair. Oh, short-lived sweetness, brief as mortal bliss, A breath, a glory—shadow still behind! The artist's passion or the lover's kiss, That bless their kind! That bless their kind, though both on earth may meet Earth's loss and bitterness and long defeat, Till death give joy and vision to the blind. Yes, I am here, the Spirit of all bloom, The secret ecstasy of ends fulfilled, I, Summer, rushing on my chosen doom, For harvest willed. For harvest willed, and white with blossom now— White? Rainbow-hued!—trees, flowers, grasses bow, With promise burdened and with summer thrilled! |