A Late Spring.
Twelve weeks had passed - how slowly! - day by day, Since formal, dull Sir Calendar had bowed Old Winter from the scene, and cried, "Make way! The Spring, the Spring!" and still a sullen cloud Obscured the sky, and the north wind blew chill; When lo, one morn the miracle began; A Presence brooded over vale and hill, And through all life a quickening impulse ran. Long-hushed, forgotten melodies awoke Within my soul; the rapture of the boy Refilled me; o'er my arid being broke A brimming tide of elemental joy From primal deeps; and all my happy springs Came back to me - I was the peer of kings!
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"Twelve weeks had passed - how slowly! - day by day,..."
"A Late Spring." is a quintessential example of W. M. MacKeracher's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...