94 ARBOR DAY 



When, I got to the woods, I found out 



What the Spring was about, 



With her gypsy ways 



And her heart ablaze, 



Coming up from the south 



With the wander-lure of witch songs in her mouth. 



For the sky 



Stirred and grew soft and swimming as a lover's 



eye 



As she went by; 

 The air 



Made love to all it touched, as if its care 

 Were all to spare; 

 The earth 



Prickled with lust of birth; 

 The woodland streams 



Babbled the incoherence of the thousand dreams 

 Wherewith the warm sun teems. 

 And out of the frieze 

 Of the chestnut trees 

 I heard 

 The sky and the fields and the thicket find a voice 



in a bird. 



. 

 Spring in the world! 

 And all things are made new! 

 There was never a mote that whirled 

 In the nebular morn, 

 There was never a brook that purled 



