Spring on the Alban Hills
O’er the Campagna it is dim warm weather;
   The Spring comes with a full heart silently,
   And many thoughts; a faint flash of the sea
Divides two mists; straight falls the falling feather.
With wild Spring meanings hill and plain together
   Grow pale, or just flush with a dust of flowers.
   Rome in the ages, dimmed with all her towers,
Floats in the midst, a little cloud at tether.
I fain would put my hands about thy face,
   Thou with thy thoughts, who art another Spring,
      And draw thee to me like a mournful child.
Thou lookest on me from another place;
   I touch not this day’s secret, nor the thing
      That in the silence makes thy soft eyes wild.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (lane@elcore.net)
Created April 11, 2001; not revised.