By Isaac Rosenberg

I walk and I wonder
To bear the birds sing;
Without you, my lady,
How can there he Spring ?
I see the pink blossoms
That slept for a year,
But who could have waked them
While you were not near ?

Birds sing to the blossoms,
Blind, dreaming your pink ;
These blush to the songsters,
Your music they think :
So well had you taught them
To look and to sing,
Your bloom and your music,
The ways of the Spring.

Friday, April 19th, 2024