Spring Song

A poem by Victor James Daley

I am the Vision and the Dream
Of trembling Age, and yearning Youth;
I am the Sorceress Supreme.
I am Illusion; I am Truth.

I am the Queen to whom belongs
The royal right great gifts to give;
I am the Singer of the Songs
That lure men on to live and live.

There is no music like to mine;
I sing in green, and gold and red;
I pour from secret casks the wine
That cheers the cold hearts of the dead.

My harp it has a thousand tones,
And makes the world with joy a-flood;
The old men feel it in their bones,
And life leaps laughing in their blood.

The sourest mortal all in vain
Shall try from me to keep apart;
I have no commerce with his brain,
I storm the fortress of his heart.

I am the Soul of things to come;
I make a lover from a log;
I make a poet of the dumb;
I make a seraph of a frog.

The lover with a wrecked romance,
The gambler by misfortune struck,
I bring to them another chance-
New life, new times, new love, new luck.

My names are all the names impearled
In all the songs my singers sing;
I am the sweetheart of the world,
I am Carissima-the Spring!

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