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A Spring Sonnet
by Arthur Henry James
Last night beneath the mockery of the moon
I heard the sudden startled whisperings
Of wakened birds settling their restless wings;
The North-east brought his word of gladness, "Soon!"
And all the night with wonder was a-swoon.
A soul had breathed into long-dreaming things;
Some unseen hand hovered above the strings:
Some cosmic chord had set the earth in tune.
And when I rose I saw the Bay arrayed
In her grey robe against the coming heat.
A pulse awoke within the stirring street--
The wattle-gold upon the pavements thrown,
And through the quiet of the colonnade
The smoky perfume of boronia blown.
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A Springtime Theme
Amidst winter's bleak and rough hold we fight,
To evoke a jaunty shade of pasture green.
Whistling on harsh winds, the reeds, serene
Enough to banish the madness of our plight,
And cast on weary minds fleeting delight;
Ere unto death our bodies slowly wean,
And go in search of what man hath never seen,
Yet, know that on her path spring sheds no light.
Walk not, therefore, in misery, as spring
Stretches her barren hands, but rather sing;
As the reed shoots, with devotion to the wind
Admire the green, to color thou ought to cling;
As the baby in the womb, whom the Lord may bring
To Earth's banquet, the colors and seasons entwined.
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