Page:Sour Grapes.djvu/17



Here it is spring again

and I still a young man!

I am late at my singing.

The sparrow with the black rain on his breast

has been at his cadenzas for two weeks past:

What is it that is dragging at my heart?

The grass by the back door

is stiff with sap.

The old maples are opening

their branches of brown and yellow moth-flowers.

A moon hangs in the blue

in the early afternoons over the marshes.

I am late at my singing.