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snow；
Their struggling hours Of choking sorrow underground。 Chide
not the flowers！ You little guess of that profound And blind； dumb
agony of ours！ Yet； victor here beside the rill； I greet the light that I
have found； A Daffodil！〃
And when the Daffodil was done A boastful Marigold spake on：
〃Oh； chide the white frost； if you choose； The heavy clod； so hard to
loose； The preying powers Of worm and insect underground。 Chide
not the flowers！ For spite of scathe and cruel wound； Unconquered by
the sunless hours； I rise in regal pride； a bold And golden…hearted；
golden…crowned Marsh Marigold！〃
And when she came no more； her creek Would not believe； but bade us
seek
Hither； yon； and to and fro Everywhere that children go When the
Spring Is on the wing And the winds of April blow 〃I will never think
her dead； 〃She will come again！〃 it said； And then the birds that use the
vale； Broken…hearted； turned the tale Into syllables of song And chirped it
half a summer long：
〃Silvia； Silvia； Be our Song once more； Our vale revisit； Silvia；
And be our Song once more： For joy lies sleeping in the lute； The merry
pipe； the woodland flute； And all the pleading reeds are mute That
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breathed to thee of yore。
〃Silvia； Silvia； Be our Moon again；
Shine on our valley； Silvia； And be our Moon again： The fluffy owl
and nightingale Flit silent through the darkling vale； Or utter only words
of wail From throats all harsh with pain。
〃Silvia； Silvia； Be Springtime； as of old； Come clad in laughter；
Silvia； Our Springtime； as of old： The waiting lowlands and the hills
Are tremulous with daffodils Unblown； until thy footstep thrills Their
promise into gold。〃
And； musing on her here； I too Must wonder if it can be true She died；
as other mortals do。 The thought would fit her more； to feign That； full
of life and unaware That earth holds aught of grief or stain； The fairies
stole and hold her where Death enters not； nor strife nor pain；
That； drowsing on some bed of pansies； By Titania's necromancies Her
senses were to slumber lulled； Deeply sunken； steeped and dulled； And
by wafture of swift pinions She was borne out through earth's portals
To the fairy queen's dominions； To some land of the immortals。
THE EXPLORERS
AND some still cry： 〃What is the use？ The service rendered？
What the gain？ Heroic； yes！but in what cause？ Have they made less
one earth…borne pain？ Broadened the bounded spirit's scope？ Or died to
make the dull world hope？〃
Must man still be the slave of Use？ But these men； careless and
elate； Join battle with a burly world Or come to wrestling grips with
fate； And not for any good nor gain Nor any fame that may befall But；
thrilling in the clutch of life； Heed the loud challenge and the call；
And grown to symbols at the last； Stand in heroic silhouette Against
horizons ultimate； As towers that front lost seas are set；
The reckless gesture； the strong pose； Sharp battle…cry flung back to
Earth； And buoyant humor； as a god Might say： 〃Lo； here my feet have
trod！〃 There lies the meaning and the worth！
They bring no golden treasure home； They win no acres for their
clan； Nor dream nor deed of theirs shall mend The ills of man's
bedeviled span Nor are they skilled in sleights of speech； （Nor
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overeager） to make plain The use they serve； transcending use； The
gain beyond apparent gain！
EARLY AUTUMN
WITH half…hearted levies of frost that make foray； retire； and
refrain Ambiguous bugles that blow and that falter to silence again…
…
With banners of mist that still waver above them； advance and
retreat； The hosts of the Autumn still hide in the hills； for a doubt
stays their feet；
But anon； with a barbaric splendor to dazzle the eyes that behold；
And regal in raiment of purple and umber and amber and gold；
And girt with the glamor of conquest and scarved with red
symbols of pride； From the hills in their might and their mirth on the
steeds of the wind will they ride；
To make sport and make spoil of the Summer； who dwells in a
dream on the plain； Still tented in opulent ease in the camps of her
indolent train。
〃TIME STEALS FROM LOVE〃
TIME steals from Love all but Love's wings； And how should aught
but evil things； Or any good but death； befall Him that is thrall unto
Time's thrall； Slave to the lesser of these Kings？
O heart of youth that wakes and sings！ O golden vows and golden
rings！ Life mocks you with the tale of all Time steals from Love！
O riven lute and writhen strings； Dead bough whereto no blossom
clings； The glory was ephemeral！ Nor may our Autumn grief recall
The passion of the perished Springs Time steals from Love！
THE RONDEAU
YOUR rondeau's tale must still be light No bugle…call to life's stern
fight！ Rather a smiling interlude Memorial to some transient mood
Of idle love and gala…night。
Its manner is the merest sleight O' hand； yet therein dwells its might；
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For if the heavier touch intrude Your rondeau's stale。
Fragrant and fragile； fleet and bright； And wing'd with whim； it gleams
in flight Like April blossoms wind…pursued Down aisles of tangled
underwood； Nor be too serious when you write Your rondeau's tail！
VISITORS
THEY haunt me； they tease me with hinted Withheld revelations； The
songs that I may not utter； They lead me； they flatte