O harbinger of more expansive days,
Your double fluting falls upon my ears
With all the sudden magic of lost years,
Waking my soul as from a wintry haze
So that my senses spring alert; amaze
Floods through my being, washing cares and fears
Away to limbo, while the unshed tears
Well in my eyes to hear your simple phrase.
The trees are gaunt and rigid in the frost,
The ground is hard and cold beneath my foot;
Between new banks of snow the stream is lost
And all is drear and dead, a coffin’d world –
But no ! – the bonds are loosed, the flags unfurled
Of spring, and life; their trumpet is your throat.
Mona’s Herald 23.1.62