You and King Yesterday both have fled To the Land-of-the-beautiful-days-that-are-dead.
How full of bird music the dewy-fair Morn When Yesterday, King of the Past, was born;
How rosy with roses the passionate noon When you and King Yesterday ruled sweet June;
How royal with splendour the crimsoning west As Yesterday bravely grew old with zest;
And eve was a glamour of emerald light When Yesterday greeted the world "Good-night."
Oh! You and King Yesterday gently wean My thoughts to the Country-it-might-have-been.
Thou canst not kiss without consent, For know, dear Thief, a kiss is lent; And if thou takest one to-day, With interest must thou repay: One now, next week I'll count in fives,-- Thou'lt owe some scores in Paradise!
Some tell me "_Life is a weariful thing, That Sorrow remains, while joy takes wing._" But Sorrow and I already have met: His face is wan and his lips are set; He cometh and goeth on silent feet, Yet between his visits are moments sweet, Moments that come like a blackbird's dart, When Happiness holds me close to his heart; When I sense the rapture of swinging skies And know the thrill of the spring's surprise, As I lie on the mothering Earth's deep breast And clasp my tremulous bosom, lest Some unknown loveliness I might miss, Or forgetful be of the West Wind's kiss.
Like the blackbird's notes in the early hours Which fall like a peal of silver flowers, Joy rings his bells in my waiting ears, And Sorrow departs to his silent meres. "_And if he returns?_"--my soul will sing Remembering Joy who has taken wing!
A thrush's call Has chanced to fall Into my heart Where dwell apart Dear memories Of summer skies, Of heartsome days, Of flower-fair ways, Of kisses shy With people high. What did I ken Of lovers then, Of lover-laws, Of lover-saws? The sweet, sweet earth Was giving birth To lovely things With songs and wings; And yonder thrush On yonder bush Brings home to me The little years of memory.
(_There is a country saying that spring has not come until you can set your foot on seven daisies at once_)
"_O! How do you know When spring has come? Still falls the snow And the birds are dumb._"
The grass will wear A greener tone, The thrush will dare To carol alone.