This is a poem I found in my all time favorite book “The Gypsy Trail:An Anthology for Campers” it was gifted to me by a man who runs an antique shop in Sausalito. It features a plethora of famous poets and writers, my copy looks like one of the first few copies ever printed…1914.
In honor of the first day of spring I will share one of my favorite poems in here. I love this season so much! Partly because this is when I came into this world, at the same time flowers unfurled, Butterflies emerged from chrysalis, and Bees pollinated..
from the section “Spring”
FROM AN OLD RITUAL |Bliss Carman
O dwellers in the dust, arise,
My little brothers of the field,
And put the sleep out of your eyes!
Your death-doom is repealed.
Lift all your golden faces now,
You dandelions in the ground!
You quince and thorn and apple bough,
Your foreheads are unbound.
O dwellers in the frost,awake,
My little brothers of the mould!
It is time to forth and slake
Your being as of old.
You frogs and newts and creatures small
In the pervading urge of spring,
Who taught you in the dreary fall
To guess so glad a thing?
From every swale your watery notes,
Piercing the rainy cedar lands,
Proclaim your tiny silver throats
Are loosened of their bands.
O dwellers in the desperate bark
My brothers of the mortal birth
Is there no whisper bids you mark
The easter of the earth?
Let the great flood of spring’s return
Float every fear away, and know
We are all fellows of the fern
And children of the snow.