Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, A VISION OF SPRING (LATE WINTER, 1915), by FREDERICK RIDGELY TORRENCE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A VISION OF SPRING (LATE WINTER, 1915), by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: In the night, at the sound of winter thunder
Last Line: Out of opening heavens the dove descending.
Subject(s): Spring


In the night, at the sound of winter thunder,
As I brooded upon my wounded planet
From my country beyond the reddened waters,
All my thoughts were at once of spring returning.
Broken rain from the gulf upon my window
Passed down shadowy ways and there was silence.

Out of quietness light arose within me
Shedding luminous magic on the darkness;
Moon on moon from a cloud of vanished Aprils
Lit my heart with a dream of springs remembered.
Unborn beauty in flowers not yet risen
Waved before me in bright immortal pastures
Till alone of the year's four worlds of wonder
Spring seemed tender and I forgot the others.
Only spring could assuage my grieving planet
Scourged with graves of the young men darkly fallen
In long harrowing straightness on the meadows.
None seemed healing beside the blossom season;
When grass rises again (I thought) these furrows
Will lie hidden forever under beauty;
On each sleeper a loveliness arising
Soon shall cover his deep unwhispered trouble,
None will signal of anguish from these trenches,
None find sorrow among the roots of roses;
One thing only is needed, rainbowed springtime;
Peace flows out of it, all its ways are peaceful.
So I longed for the time of apple blossoms,
All my dreams were upon the blowing lilacs.

But some whirlwind that held the winter's secret
Rose and lifting the frozen days as curtains
Showed me Time as an upper sky of crystal
Flushed with images yet to be reflected.

There past lightnings I saw the coming season
Fill with shapes of the things to be unfolded;
But no healing was there; I saw none solaced,
Saw no comfort uplifted by the snowdrop.
Nothing beautiful rose but close above it
Shadows thwarted its mercy for the gazer.

By the crocus and by the valley-lily
Stood the sorrowful, stood the broken-hearted.

There they drank who had thirsted from the autumn
Bitter widowings poured among the gardens.
By the rivers were trystings kept with ashes.
There I saw but I could not reach the children
Turned from happiness, looking to the trenches;
Saw them taste of the grindings of false anger,
Saw behind them the granite eyes of hunger,
Saw things terrible born among the roses.

All was barren as ever in the winter,
Earth embattled against the mourning heavens,
One star warring against the many lonely,
Nothing comforted, nothing unendangered.

And I thought that I heard the spring cry round me,
All about me the voice of springtime crying:
"I am barren, barren, for Love has left me,
I am nothing without his breath to warm me.
My beloved was mine among the lilies
Timeless dawnings before these heavens gathered.
There he found me and sealed me with his kisses,
There I gave him the worlds unstained, unwarring.
But earth's children, the wilful children scorned him
Whom I call and desire until the daybreak.
I fly sorrowful then until his coming,
I pour solace to none of all the mournful,
Till earth's children, the children sad receive him.
I have sorrow, sorrow, till Love's returning."

Then at last from a deep behind the whirlwind
One still wisdom arose and shook my spirit
And I knew, if the golden spring comes loveless,
Earth shall moan but the bitter moons flow empty.

Though old mockeries plant the thorny truces,
All the fruitage of steel repose has fallen.
Love comes weaponless, all-forgiving, tender,
Olive-filleted for the peace enduring.

O, that endlessly earth would stream the heavens
With one music of all-assenting welcome.
Strong, miraculous then would spring reveal him,
Swift Love walking on the wavings of the crocus,
Holding tenderly, holding safe the broken.

Dove-low waters among the kindled willows
Then would lift to anoint a dust unsaddened,
Piercing cries of the spirit from the marshes
Melt with chorusings sweet upon the hillsides,
Harplike mysteries called through glowing orchards,
Shy, invisible laughters from the thickets.
All that uttered the dream while earth turned heedless
Then with freshets of song would cool its fever.

Unbelievably then would Love inhabit
All green places within the heart, outpouring
Spring with thunder of all her myriad fountains
In one cup for the healing of the nations.
Till in visionings all, as on a mountain,
Would with trembling above the fallen blindness
Look on Love and discern him as the sunlight,
Rayed with dreams, and above the treading glory
Out of opening heavens the dove descending.





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