Spring

Here are the great clouds, white against the blue;
And afar from the tree-top blooms
The small bird towns, past beauties of the hollows—
Over the fields, away,
For the sun rustles within, and all is bright!
Here, the promise of our seasons come,
A light that flowers like petals through the town,
And love is in the house, behind the lighted air,
With the day on spread below!

• Lesbia Harford