Poems (Blind)/Echoes of Spring/V.

by Mathilde Blind

V.

There's somewhat in the loveliness of spring,
 In the young light, and in the fragrant bloom,
In the sweet song that each soft breeze doth wing,
 In the bright flowers that rise from earth's darkwomb;

Which fills with sadness the presentient mind,
And for a far-off home awakes the sigh;
Which makes us gaze, with longings undefined,
On dim blue hills, and weep—we know not why.