In two months now or maybe one The sun will be a different sun

And earth that stretches white as straw

With stony ice will crack and thaw

And run in whistling stream and curve

In still blue-shadowed pools.
The nerve

Of each pink root will quiver bare

And orchards in the April air

Will show black breaking white.

Red roses in the green twilight

Will glimmer ghostly blue and swell

Upon their vines with such a smell

As only floats when the breeze is loud

At dusk from roses in a crowd.

I know that there will be these thing,

Remembering them form other springs.

All these and more shall soon be seen;

But not so beautiful as they

Seem now to be, a month away.
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LadyDiana17    2   04.04.2021 08:18    5