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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SPECTRES OF SPRING, by                    
First Line: The paling vine-leaf, savant of spring
Last Line: To dream of spring.
Subject(s): Spring

The paling vine-leaf, Savant of Spring,
Clings to the dizzy crag,
And waits and weakly moves
In the remembering wind

As the mind waits and sadly moves
On the meagre edge of now.

What derelict down, what nebula,
What spectral shell
Comes treading on the air
To the mind's spiny tentacles
To unsuspected lodgment there?

A child's strange eyes, and crisp gold hair,
Urgent, sweet mouth that clings:
So soon, withal, a frightened faun,
Troubled by the cause of things.

A woman in Autumn --
Pale her life; but the foliage in flare:
She takes a young man
To dream of Spring.

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