Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SPRING, by LOUIS BOUILHET



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SPRING, by            
First Line: Rise from your bed for the spring is born this morning
Last Line: Telling of my love for you where fruit-trees flow'r.
Subject(s): Love; Spring


RISE from your bed for the Spring is born this morning;
Yonder in the dell a rosy veil's adrift;
All the garden thrills and sings; the sun upon your window
Dazzles like a laughing face when eyelids lift.

Yonder on the trellis arch the crimson roses cluster,
Making heaven redolent with soft, sweet breath;
All alone the vine is bare, and mid the bursting flowers
Creeps along the ancient wall, a snake in death.

Round the laden lilac-trees rustle in their swarming
Butterflies and blue flies amid the bloom;
And the wild wood hyacinth chiming on its belfry
Rouses love that lay asleep in forest gloom.

Now that April sows abroad her troop of ox-eye daisies,
Leave your heavy cloak behind, and hark how sweet
Sings the bird that calls you, your sister periwinkles
Smiling up into your eyes from eyes that greet.

Come, come away! for the springs are clear at morning;
Nay, dear, wait no longer for the hot noon hour;
Fain would I wander while the meadows still are dewy,
Telling of my love for you where fruit-trees flow'r.





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