Poems (Bushnell)/Relenting
XXXVIRELENTING
The earth is in a melting mood This morning of the year;And clasped around by mists that brood,She smiles to find herself so wooed, With, now and then, a tear.
The topmost fastness of the hill Has let the winter go;The happy-hearted little rillNo longer shivers past the mill To meadows hushed with snow.
The birds let fall their new-born dreams Upon me from above;And many a shadow wed with beams,And many a wind-kissed blossom seems To say a word for love.
What is there in this tender air To thrill me like a dart?It quickens places poor and bare,And every covert sweet and fair, Except one maiden's heart.
O, are such changeful gleams of light Made only to beguile? Then, I am but a foolish wight To be so glad because, last night, She blessed me with a smile.
But O, when ice and snow relent, And every coldest thing; Might not, perchance, one more repent, And melting into warm consent, Flood all my heart with Spring?