The roamer and other poems/Ho! the Springtime!
HO! THE SPRINGTIME!
In the Trenches. Italy: 1917
I
Ho! the springtime!
Springtime sets a young heart thinking.
Then it was spring, when I gave my signore the flowers of the field,
And my brother brought him great violets that the perfumed gardens yield;
Sun, and field-flowers, and violets bound our bosoms and sealed.
Ho! the sun in the campagna! the flow of the sap of the world!
The blossom of dawn! the irised sea! the far beach surf-impearled!—
And all their joy in our bosoms like a flower from the bud unfurled!
One leap, one thrill, one throb of the manifold pulse divine
Flooded and blended our being, as the grapes are one in the wine.
Sweet there was our life together in the garden this side of the grave,
And the springtime smiling on us was the smile of flower and wave.
O my heart!
II
Ho! the springtime!
Time of kiss and time of blossom—
Time of faring on the sea's blue bosom—
Time of thinking of another spring—
When we lived, young, open hearts together,
Roved the greening land, the violet weather!—
Clover, poppy, almond-bough
Murmured it then, murmur it now:
"Love is coming! this is it! this is it!
Passes the bloom! oh, woe to miss it!
The voice, the touch, the fond caress
That undivided lovers bless!"
O my heart, how sad is thinking!
III
"Ho! is it spring?" in the dawn I wake up saying.
I can hear, far off, my mother (poveretta) praying
For us three—
And Italy!
There where mighty Etna, snow-clad, thunder-torn and earthquake-riven,
Lifts the breathing springtime to the fire-black heaven!
Oh, the spring!
Ho! is it spring?
Sì! thoughts, kisses, flowers, caresses!
Time of blossom and endearing,
To dark death forever nearing!—
Time of weeping!
Time of the black hour toward us creeping!—
Signore! O signor'!
Ho! is it spring?
Time of wandering forth on earth's green bosom!
Time of passing of youth's almond-blossom!
Far we wandered, far we wandered, far, and far away!—
Across the greening lands, across the violet seas, and far, and far away!—
Flowers of the field I cannot bring, signor'.
Thinking, to thee I send the kiss of spring, signor'.