SPRING 93 



SPRING* 



BY RICHARD HOVEY 



I SAID in my heart,. "I am sick of four walls and a 



ceiling. 



I have need of the sky. 

 I have business with the grass. 

 I will up and get me away where the hawk is 



wheeling, 

 Lone and high. 

 And the slow clouds go by. 

 I will get me away to the waters that glass 

 The clouds as they pass, 

 To the waters that lie 

 Like the heart of a maiden aware of a doom drawing 



nigh 



And dumb for sorcery of impending joy. 

 I will get me away to the woods. 

 Spring, like a huntsman's boy, 

 Halloos along the hillsides and unhoods 

 The falcon in my will. 

 The dogwood calls me, and the sudden thrill 

 That breaks in apple blooms down country roads 

 Plucks me by the sleeve and nudges me away. 

 The sap is in the boles to-day, 

 And in my veins a pulse that yearns and goads." 



* From "Along the Trail," copyright by Small, Maynard & 

 Co. Used by permission of the present publishers, Duffield & Co. 



