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Saturday, May 20, 2023

May / David Atwood Wasson


May

The green blades are springing,
        The glad birds are singing,
The sunlight is laughing o'er forest and lea;
        And the heart in my bosom
        Expands in each blossom,
It grows in the grass, and it sings from the tree.

        Is it true, the sweet feeling
        Through every vein stealing?
Am I there, do I live in the breath of the spring?
        In the many-voiced carol
        And the sward s green apparel?
In the far-flying shine is my soul on the wing?

        O Life! many-sided,
        But never divided,
Here hid in a bud, there bright in the sun,
        I live in thy flowing:
        Thy thought is my knowing:
The blossom, the bird, and mv heart, thev are one.
~~
David Atwood Wasson (1823-1887)
from Poems, 1888

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

David Atwood Wasson biography

Michael Martin, May Morning, 2014. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.

1 comment:

  1. Learnt a new word: sward: an expanse of short grass. You know poetry can remind us of the splendor in the grass. We walk by the sward of freshly cut green coiffed grass, taking it for granted, such lushness, such beauty, tended for our pleasure, yet we rarely think of such grass in a poetic posey way. Poetry reminds us, this.

    Love the lineation, indentation... I have tried but have not succeeded as this, David Atwood Wasson has. An art to doing this, not haphazard. 💟💟💟💟💟💟

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