Page:The Unconquered Air, Coates, 1912.djvu/126

 O GIORNO FELICE!

store is spent; I am fain to borrow:

Give me to drink of a vintage fine!

Pour me a draught—a draught of To-morrow,

Brimming and fresh from a rock-cool shrine:

Nectar of earth,

For the longing and dearth

Of a heart still young,

That waiteth and waiteth a song unsung!

Glad be the strain!

In the cup pour no pain:

Leave at the brim not a taste of sorrow!

Spring would I sing! For the bird flies free,

The sap is astir in the oldest tree,

And the Maiden weaves,

'Mid a laughter of leaves,

The bud and the blossom of joys to be!

Ay, Winter took all;

But I heard the Spring call,

And my heart, denied,

With a rapturous shiver—

Like that that makes eager the pulse of the river

When something at last tells it Winter is past— 110