Spring Awoke To-Day
SPRING awoke to-day!
Somewhere--far away--
Spring awoke to-day
From the depth of dream.
Through the air bestirred
Pulse of winging bird,
Through the air bestirred
Laugh of hidden stream.
On the world's cold lips
Fell warm finger-tips;
On the world's cold lips
Woke the glow and gleam!
Spring awoke to-day!
Somewhere--far away--
Spring awoke to-day
From the depth of dream!
poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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Last Spring
THIS morning at the door
I heard the Spring.
Quickly I set it wide
And, welcoming,
'Come in, sweet Spring,' I cried,
'The winter ash, long dried,
Waits but your breath to rise
On phantom wing.'
A brown leaf shivered by,
A soulless thing--
My heart in quick dismay
Forgot to sing--
Twisted and grim it lay,
Kin to the ghost-ash gray,
Dead, dead--strange herald this
Of jocund Spring!
I spurned it from the door.
I longed that Spring
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poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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The Vassal
WIND of the North, O far, wild wind
Born of a far, lone sea--
When suns are soft and breezes kind
Why are you kin to me?
Uncounted years above the sea,
Rock-fortressed from its rage,
The fishermen, your fathers, kept
A barren heritage--
Grim as the sea they forced to pay
The sea-toll of their wage.
And lo! The fate which made you hers
And gave you of her best
And set you in a sunny place,
Down-sloping to the West,
Forgot to change your fisher's heart
Serf to the sea's unrest!
Wind of the North! O bitter wind,
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poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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Sad One, Must You Weep
'SAD one, must you weep alway?
Youth's ill wedded with despair;
Ringless hand and robe of grey
Mock the charms which they declare.'
Sad and sweetly answered she,
'What are comely robes to me?
I would wear a grass green dress,
Dew pearls for my gems--no less
Now can comfort me.'
'Sweet, the shining of your hair
(All forgotten and undone)
Squanders 'neath the veil you wear
Gold whose loss bereaves the sun.'
Very sad and low said she,
'What is shining hair to me?
When from out the rain-wet mold
Kingcups borrow of its gold
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poem by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay
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