Tuesday, March 22, 2011

May 1915 by Charlotte Mew

Let us remember Spring will come again
To the scorched blackened woods, where the wounded trees
Wait, with their old wise patience for the heavenly rain,
Sure of the sky: sure of the sea to send it's healing breeze,
Sure of the sun. And even as to these
Surely the Spring, when God shall please,
Will come again like a divine surprise
To those who sit today...
At one with love, at one with Grief: blind to the scattered things and changing skies.

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