On the First Morning of Spring
A magic message ran
And touched the sleeping trees:
This morning Spring began
With swift and sudden ease.
The air is full of light,
Green is the happy ground;
Our Winter of last night
Is gone without a sound.
Like a delusion, gone,
As it had never been;
Through forests flies the Faun,
And breasts the zephyrs keen.
'Tis youth the season sings.
Yet it is hardly youth
Which most securely clings
To Spring's delight and truth.
Her gospel kind and sure
That man shall best appraise
Whose spirit is mature
Whether from length of days,
Or that far happier he
Whom, though still young in years
A rare precocity
To Wisdom's self endears.
In whom ripe enterprise
With insight is combined;
Who youthful ardour ties
To a well-tempered mind.
He only can afford
Experience to forego,
For Instinct will accord
All that he needs to know.
Blest above all is he,
Age shall his strength revere,
His actions shall be free,
And his advancement clear.
Because he knows thee, Life,
Thy course he shall control;
Shall conquer without strife,
And smiling reach his goal.
His youthful dreams are sweet,
But he shall understand:
Thy fruits are at his feet,
Thy triumphs in his hand.
~~
A.Y. Campbell (1885-1958)
from Poems, 1912
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
A.Y. Campbell biography
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