RESURGENCE To C. L. B.

DOWN the glad morning lane a lucent veil Of dogwood wavers like a windblown screen Revealing vistas lit by golden trail Of netted water-brooks that intervene Where ferns their dewy plumage spread and preen; Soft, myriad breaths of budding boughs exhale On the spring world; a buoyant path of green Makes sign by leaf and foliate flower-grail Of exquisite re-capture of the frail Fresh renascence of all that fair has been. Nature survives. Lift then the haggard eyes That watch Life on its dark death-shuttled loom! Are ours the only forms that may not rise Out of the Dark to unfrustrated bloom? Nay—burst we forth out of the moment’s doom, Instinct toward suns of flowering destinies, Lifting glad lips to deep full-breasted skies, Branching like stars where radiant dreams resume.