Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By WilburLarremore

1232 Blossom Time

SPRING came with tiny lances thrusting,

And earth was clad in peeping green;

In russet bark, the twigs incrusting,

Tenderest blossom-points were seen;

A robin courier proclaimed good cheer:

Summer will soon arrive, for I am here.

And now from cherry boughs in flower

The languid breeze arousing shakes,

With every honeyed breath, a shower

Of feather snow in drifting flakes;

And apple trees in bloom, like ricks of white,

Are veiled with smoky, amethystine light.

Ah, little soul, on thy first spring

Unclosing merry, puzzled eyes,

Would that a father’s thought could bring

Prophetic counsel more than wise

To guide thee as a father’s love would yearn,—

Thou hast so much to suffer and to learn!

I cannot live thy life for thee,

My precepts would be dull and trite,

Barren as last year’s leaves to me

Beneath the apple blossoms white;

But in thy new horizon’s vaster range

Our hearts close knit shall feel no chilling change.