IN THE SPRING by IBYCUS

IN the season of Spring is the season of growing;
Where lies the inviolate orchard-meadow,
The apple-garden where Maidens dwell,
There, watered freshly with runnels flowing,
The quince-trees blossom, and safe in shadow
The vine-buds under the vine-leaf swell
In the season of Spring. But in my heart passion
At no tide ever asleep is laid:
From the Lady of Love as a blast of the North,
When a blaze of lightning flashes it forth,
With a rush, with a burst,
In a dark storm parching and maddening with thirst,
Unabashed, unafraid,
It shoots to my bosom, gripping it still
In the same rude fashion,
And shakes and shatters at will.

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