The Blue Bird (Custance)/Spring in the South
For other versions of this work, see Spring in the South (Custance).
SPRING IN THE SOUTH
Beautiful as some rich embroidery
The valley lies in verdant amplitude,
Great mountains—like old merchants—o'er it brood—
And as a lovely woman languidly
Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea
To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . .
The sky forgets her starry multitude,
Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be!
The valley lies in verdant amplitude,
Great mountains—like old merchants—o'er it brood—
And as a lovely woman languidly
Trailing her long blue robes, so comes the sea
To touch it softly in a wistful mood . . .
The sky forgets her starry multitude,
Seeing how fair mere earthly flowers can be!
Glad country where the wayward feet of Spring,
Moving in magic dances, bring desire,
New miracles of beauty every day . . .
Where Love and sweet delight fly wing to wing
Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire
So burn the hours of joy as swift away!
Moving in magic dances, bring desire,
New miracles of beauty every day . . .
Where Love and sweet delight fly wing to wing
Forgetful as in dreams, that bright as fire
So burn the hours of joy as swift away!