Old wonder flush'd the east anew <br />and shed the golden air, and wing <br />of song that summon'd, from the dew <br />and rapture of the fields of spring, <br />old wonder blossom'd in my heart: <br />because the threatening dream of old, <br />that nightly wont to bid us part, <br />now changing, gave me to behold <br />thy rosy maidenhood that pass'd <br />and greeted me with stranger grace, <br />who knew that meeting for our last <br />and far from mine thy biding-place. <br />And I have thank'd the threat of sleep, <br />because the secret heart that flow'd <br />with phantom wound was proven to keep <br />beneath its living springs bestow'd <br />the pang that seven years since was felt <br />keen thro' my life yet soft dispersed <br />along all veins that thrill or melt — <br />old wonder, blossom'd, not inhears'd: <br />and eyes perchance made dull and slow <br />by the long days' subtle dusty mesh <br />waked gladly from their fear, to know <br />old wonder, old and ever fresh.<br /><br />Christopher John Brennan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/old-wonder-flush-d-the-east-anew/
