March in Tryon
I
In the sweet March morning
On the upland road
Sunshine and Blue Moth
And I were abroad.
Like a voice the Silence
Where old leaves lay dead:
“Make straight a highway
For the Spring!” it said.
II
O East, there still are stars (a sign for sleep!)
Like daffodils in a dark garden springing,
While the white moon slips down that other deep
Of West, with low clouds clinging.
We wake for day, my armored-pine and I,
But only Watchman Wind goes lightly by,
His “All’s well!” singing.
III
I have listened, O wind —
I must go.
The valleys below
Into blossom are breaking,
But snow
I shall find
On the way I am taking,
I know.
Level lands become steep,
Rough with stone.
There goes none
On this journey uncharted,
Save one
Who will keep
To the heights joyous-hearted,
Alone.
I have felt thee, O wind,
Out of space
Touch my face.
There shall be no returning.
New ways
Feet must find,
And the slow lips be learning
New praise.
~~
Florence D. Snelling
from Poetry, March 1919
[Poem is in the public domain in the United States]
Florence D. Snelling biography
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