Page:Poems, Volume 1, Coates, 1916.djvu/126



O war has begun, they say,

Well, Spring is here before it;

If war takes much away,

And leaves us to deplore it,—

Yet see! the woody dells once more

Are turning green, in spite of war.

On yonder maple tree

The misty buds are swelling;

Violets, timidly,

Peep from their mossy dwelling,

And bluebirds, far and near, outpour

Their brimming hope, in spite of war.

Rumor, with awful tales

Of death and of disaster,

May clamor through our vales,

But Spring comes hither faster,

Humming a tender rune of peace—

Breathing of bloom and life's increase.