A Spring Song

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Dark sod pierced by flames of flowers,
 Dead wood freshly quickening,
Bright skies dusked with sudden showers,
 Lit by rainbows on the wing.

Cuckoo calls and young lambs' bleating,
 Nimble airs which coyly bring
Little gusts of tender greeting
 From shy nooks where violets cling.

Half-fledged buds and birds and vernal
 Fields of grass dew-glistening;
Evanescent life's eternal
 Resurrection, bridal Spring!

© Mathilde Blind