25.07.2007, 17:26
(From "Under the Aspens.")
Our aspens quiver in these pallid rays
Of mid-September, more than when the red
Hearts of their tender leaves were newly wed,
And grew together through the lengthening days.
Their first self-centred joys have gone their ways,
And now we may behold where overhead
Their larger, more responsive leaves outspread,
Give trembling answer to each breath tat plays.
So is it well for us, if so it be,
Dear love; if hearts that still so closely cling,
Of Time have learnt large hospitality.
Yet dear, withal, the best of me I bring
And offer first of all the world to thee
Whose love is still of all my fruit the Spring.
Our aspens quiver in these pallid rays
Of mid-September, more than when the red
Hearts of their tender leaves were newly wed,
And grew together through the lengthening days.
Their first self-centred joys have gone their ways,
And now we may behold where overhead
Their larger, more responsive leaves outspread,
Give trembling answer to each breath tat plays.
So is it well for us, if so it be,
Dear love; if hearts that still so closely cling,
Of Time have learnt large hospitality.
Yet dear, withal, the best of me I bring
And offer first of all the world to thee
Whose love is still of all my fruit the Spring.