THE FIRST SPRING DAY

I wonder if the sap is stirring yet, If wintry birds are dreaming of a mate, If frozen snowdrops feel as yet the sun, And crocus fires are kindled one by one: Sing, robin, sing! I still am sore in doubt concerning Spring. I wonder if the spring-tide of this year Will bring another spring both lost and dear; If heart and spirit will find out their spring, Or if the world alone will bud and sing: Sing, hope, to me! Sweet notes, my hope, sweet notes for memory. The sap will surely quicken soon or late, The tardiest bird will twitter to a mate; So Spring must dawn again with warmth and bloom, Or in this world, or in the world to come: Sing, voice of Spring! Till I, too, blossom and rejoice and sing.