Preludes

L’océan connu, l’âme reste à sonder. Victor Hugo.

O Spring, I know thee! Seek for sweet surprise In the young children’s eyes. But I have learnt the years, and know the yet Leaf-folded violet. Mine ear, awake to silence, can foretell The cuckoo’s fitful bell. I wander in a grey time that encloses June and the wild hedge-roses. A year’s procession of the flowers doth pass My feet, along the grass. And all you sweet birds silent yet, I know The notes that stir you so, Your songs yet half devised in the dim dear Beginnings of the year. In these young days you meditate your part; I have it all by heart. I know the secrets of the seeds of flowers Hidden, and warm with showers, And how, in kindling Spring, the cuckoo shall Alter his interval. But not a flower or song I ponder is My own, but memory’s. I shall be silent in those days desired Before a world inspired. O dear brown birds, compose your old song-phrases, Earth, thy familiar daisies.