Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/27

Rh And, oh! thrice loved of yore—

Whence comes that note? It was not here before!

The white-throat! By what blest magician's art—

Flung out of silence, comes that clear appeal,

To make the jaded and insensate feel

New yearnings of the heart?

A something in the song

Shall hardly to a later strain belong—

A tremulous and naïve ecstasy

That moves the soul; which, eager then to live,

Petitions life: "Ah, stay awhile, and give

A little heed to me!

"I, also, feel the Spring!

I, also, long to spread my wings and sing,

Unvexed by cares that canker and consume:

To hope, to dream,—ere winter come, to capture

The fleeting thrill, the fragrance and the rapture

Of beauty in its bloom!"