Sweeter than spring, sweeter than spring, These brown and blue and lingering Soft days that wing Like filmy dreams across the world, One by one unfurled, unfurled, Where the ripe fields slumber and glitter and swing. Sadder than song, sadder than song, The choral drowse with madness strong That all day long The locusts lift to their god the sun, For joy of the life that is almost done -- Raptured and shrill and regretless throng. Wilder than wings, wilder than wings, The flight of the golden leaves when springs The fear that flings Them swirling and shining up from the bare Dark branches that reach to the calm of the air Where death is a-dream on azure wings. |