Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/173



to the flower-town, side by side, The bright months bring, New-born, the bridegroom and the bride, Freedom and spring.

The sweet land laughs from sea to sea, Filled full of sun; All things come back to her, being free; All things but one.

In many a tender wheaten plot Flowers that were dead Live, and old suns revive; but not That holier head.

By this white wandering waste of sea, Far north, I hear One face shall never turn to me As once this year: