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A new voice.
Awake, awake! I hear those calls,
Soft as the desert dew that falls
To stir the acacia's yellow balls.
Soft as the desert dew that falls
To stir the acacia's yellow balls.
Love, there is love! For thee too, Spring
Shall a new promise-anthem bring;
Thou art not a forgotten thing.
Shall a new promise-anthem bring;
Thou art not a forgotten thing.
The shadow of thy bridal veil,
The anguish of the nightingale,
Heaven's passion-fever, makes thee pale;
The anguish of the nightingale,
Heaven's passion-fever, makes thee pale;
Though not about thy blue-veined brows
They weave Sicilian orange-boughs;
For thine are all immortal vows.
They weave Sicilian orange-boughs;
For thine are all immortal vows.
The Spirit, sun-winged and divine,
That fills the earth-veins full of wine,
And shoots to heaven the bacchant vine,—
That fills the earth-veins full of wine,
And shoots to heaven the bacchant vine,—
The Spirit of all growth and power,
Whose breath informs the sleeping flower,
And speeds the Spring's triumphant hour,—
Whose breath informs the sleeping flower,
And speeds the Spring's triumphant hour,—
Creative, jubilant, serene,
Wearing to man a various mien,
Yet true as midnight's crescent queen,—
Wearing to man a various mien,
Yet true as midnight's crescent queen,—
