Excerpt from Poems
Six Days
How long the winter was, I cannot tell,
For every day was winter while I lived
Far from the sunlight of her eyes, whose heart
Beat upon mine with passionate youth and love.
At last a lingering Easter, bringing flowers
To streams and meadows, set me free from toil.
Sweet May had come, and winged with joy I fled
Out of the City to her mountain home;
And found her lovelier than a summer wood
Gay with the singing of a thousand birds,
And loving with a rapture that excelled
All I had known before.
The day was clear,
And far into the low, entangled hills
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