Saturday, February 4, 2012

In February / Alice Meynell

In February 

 Rich meanings of the prophet-Spring adorn,
 Unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers,
 And folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
 A poet's face asleep in this grey morn.
 Now in the midst of the old world forlorn
 A mystic child is set in these still hours.
 I keep this time, even before the flowers,
 Sacred to all the young and the unborn.

 To all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat,
 And to the Spring waiting beyond the portal,
 And to the future of my own young art,
 And, among all these things, to you, my sweet,
 My friend, to your calm face and the immortal
 Child tarrying all your life-time in your heart.

Alice Meynell 
from Preludes, 1875

[All rights reserved by the author's estate - Please do not copy]

Alice Meynell biography

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