Soul of a tree ungrown, new life out of God’s life proceeding,
Folded close in the seed, waking—O wonder of wonders—
Waking with power as a spirit to clothe thee in leaves and in branches,
What, in thine age-long future, is the word thou art set here to say?
Milicent Washburn Shinn
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When almond buds unclose,
Soft white and tender rose,—
A swarm of white moth things,
With sunset on their wings,
That fluttering settle down
On branches chill and brown;
When all the sky is blue,
And up from grasses new
Blithe... -
Spirit of song, whose shining wings have borne
Our souls of old to many a clear blue height,
Comes there the day that leaves our world forlorn
Of thy clear singing in the haunted night?
For while from out the western radiance low
Like stars the great dead...