TRAILING ARBUTUS
I found a wild arbutus in the dell,
The first-born blossom from the womb of Spring;
The bud, unfurling, held me in a spell
With its hesitant awakening.
The first-born blossom from the womb of Spring;
The bud, unfurling, held me in a spell
With its hesitant awakening.
Fragrant its petals, pink and undefiled
As the palm of one new-born, or its finger-tips;
Delicate as the song of a little child,
And sweet as the breath between its lips.
As the palm of one new-born, or its finger-tips;
Delicate as the song of a little child,
And sweet as the breath between its lips.
Something in shy arbutus wet with dew
Lays hold of me, something I do not know,—
Unless among these blossoms once I knew
A little boy, oh, long ago.
Lays hold of me, something I do not know,—
Unless among these blossoms once I knew
A little boy, oh, long ago.
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