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POEMS

A ROUNDEL IN MARCH

When March has fled with windy feet,
Spring’s blessings on the woodland shed
We too shall share, for we shall meet
When March has fled;

And all the things we left unsaid
Will find an utterance complete
In silence; and our hearts which bled

At Time and Space, with every beat
Will feel as Time and Space were dead—
For we shall clasp us close, my sweet,
When March has fled.

AT DAWN

I rise from the chair and shut the books,
The light is coming, the glad birds wake,
First the little ones, then the rooks–
O the hubbub those old rooks make!

They cease for a moment; a scarce-heard sigh
As the dawn wind rises, the cold trees stir;
As I look at their branches listlessly
Why is it, I wonder, I think of her?