Blossoms blown from the breath of Spring,1
Messages sweet to me ye bring2
From my fair lady far away,3
In the land where the mountain spirits
And the waters seaward sing.5
My love has a garden, fair and free :6
Its beauty blooms by the sleepless sea7
And the days come and the days go,8
They drift through winter and wind and
And I know she dreams of me.10
Here I bide in a dingy place,11
Where hearts grow hard in their mammon
And love is sold in Sin’s sad mart,13
And the world forgets it has a heart,14
And veils in night its face. . .15
But here, in the hate, and the sin, and
As I linger, lonely, and sick, and lorn,17
See—I lay one bright blossom by18
It shall sleep on my bosom when I die,19
Till the dawn of Judgment Morn.20
And out of the dust of my dead heart21
Sweet blossoming bells of snow shall start,22
As thoughts of my lady, none know
Spring from my living heart, even now,24
As the fleeting hours depart.25
And, in the Morn of God, I know,26
They shall say, “ Who gave these thoughts
of snow
To this poor poet, who lies asleep,28
Under the grasses, quiet and deep,29
While she ages o’er him blow ?”30
Wilt thou stand up then, my lady fair,31
And say, in the golden silence there32
He is my poet, although he lies33
With the dust of death in his darkened eyes,34
And dust in his heart of care. . .35
He is my poet ; and all the years,36
Through days of joy, and nights of tears,37
I loved him still, with a heart of snow,38
Pure as the bells on his grave that blow,39
With a love that knew no fears.40
When he lay alone, ’n eath the quiet green-
In the silent night of the dim kirkyard,42
I dreamed of him, and I know, in his sleep,43
He dreamed of me, though the grave was
For love by the grave keeps ward.”45
Shall we roam together then, hand in hand,46
Through the glades and the glens of the
deathless land ?
Yea, chasted as a queen in robes of snow,48
Pure as these blossoms, your soul shall
go. . .
Will the angels understand ?50