Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SONNET, by GRACE E. TOLLEMACHE



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SONNET, by            
First Line: As in cool-tempered airs of april-time
Last Line: The fervours that must quench its first delight.
Subject(s): World War I; First World War


AS in cool-tempered airs of April-time
The cuckoo's call sends through each sense a thrill
Of swift anticipation of the prime
That ere it ceases summer must fulfil,
But when like snow dissolving on the ground
The windflowers waste in warmth of later sweets,
Men grieve to think how soon, grown hoarse its sound,
Shall be the burden of the brazen heats.
So though when first falls on the poet's ear
Returning Fancy's long-desirèd voice,
His wild blood leaps, its summons high to hear,
Ere long he sighs—in midst e'en to rejoice—
Knowing through many a feverish day and night
The fervours that must quench its first delight.





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