Songs Of The Spring Days

A poem by George MacDonald


A gentle wind, of western birth
On some far summer sea,
Wakes daisies in the wintry earth,
Wakes hopes in wintry me.

The sun is low; the paths are wet,
And dance with frolic hail;
The trees--their spring-time is not yet--
Swing sighing in the gale.

Young gleams of sunshine peep and play;
Clouds shoulder in between;
I scarce believe one coming day
The earth will all be green.

The north wind blows, and blasts, and raves,
And flaps his snowy wing:
Back! toss thy bergs on arctic waves;
Thou canst not bar our spring.


Up comes the primrose, wondering;
The snowdrop droopeth by;
The holy spirit of the spring
Is working silently.

Soft-breathing breezes woo and wile
The later children out;
O'er woods and farms a sunny smile
Is flickering about.

The earth was cold, hard-hearted, dull;
To death almost she slept:
Over her, heaven grew beautiful,
And forth her beauty crept.

Showers yet must fall, and waters grow
Dark-wan with furrowing blast;
But suns will shine, and soft winds blow,
Till the year flowers at last.


The sky is smiling over me,
Hath smiled away the frost;
White daisies star the sky-like lea,
With buds the wood's embossed.

Troops of wild flowers gaze at the sky
Up through the latticed boughs;
Till comes the green cloud by and by,
It is not time to house.

Yours is the day, sweet bird--sing on;
The winter is forgot;
Like an ill dream 'tis over and gone:
Pain that is past, is not.

Joy that was past is yet the same:
If care the summer brings,
'Twill only be another name
For love that broods, not sings.


Blow on me, wind, from west and south;
Sweet summer-spirit, blow!
Come like a kiss from dear child's mouth,
Who knows not what I know.

The earth's perfection dawneth soon;
Ours lingereth alway;
We have a morning, not a noon;
Spring, but no summer gay.

Rose-blotted eve, gold-branded morn
Crown soon the swift year's life:
In us a higher hope is born,
And claims a longer strife.

Will heaven be an eternal spring
With summer at the door?
Or shall we one day tell its king
That we desire no more?

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Songs Of The Spring Days' by George MacDonald

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy