{Spring pHANSON, 
‘Xr'N the spring-time’s lovely thronging 
® Lurk a sacred thirst and longing. 
Every deep earth-hidden root 
Yearns to turn to flower and fruit; 
Every hen-bird east and west 
Pines for eggs beneath her breast; 
On all harmless creeping things 
Comes desire of painted wings ; 
And the brightest vision, hovers 
In the eyes of happy lovers; 
The burst of apple-blossoms brave 
Hides the newly-moulded grave ; 
The voice of happy bird in brake 
Soothes the oft-recurring ache. 
Spring is breathing through my hair, 
Spring is smiling in the air; 
And in deep delight I share 
With far removed things — 
The solitary mining mole, 
The lark, a disembodied soul, 
That, lost in heaven, sings. 
Alexander Smith, 
74 
