Spring Day

From our domain of cold, and winter bower,
From iron earth to trees in tasselly flower,
And gentle airs, and the soft-springing loam.

Offhand and royal, we are the carefree lords
Of these sumptuous rooms where light flows green,
These corridors of air, these feathery swards
tinder a sky-blue ceiling, high and clean.

We lie on the enormous grassy bed
Sheltered as princes under the mothering air,
Where the anemone shines like a star
And rivers flow through veined leaves overhead:

And hold each other close in the green chance.
Hold each other against time and waste,
Come home here in the spring that is only once
And watch how the birds are swift, yet without basic.

At last we inhabit the dream, are really floating
As princes of the hour, while these green palaces
Glide into summer, where we too are going
Midi all the birds, and leaves, and all the kisses.