Said the yellow-haired Spirit of Spring <br />To the white-footed Spirit of Snow, <br />“On the wings of the tempest take wing, <br />And leave me the valleys, and go.” <br />And, straightway, the streams were unchained, <br />And the frost-fettered torrents broke free, <br />And the strength of the winter-wind waned <br />In the dawn of a light on the sea. <br />Then a morning-breeze followed and fell, <br />And the woods were alive and astir <br />With the pulse of a song in the dell, <br />And a whisper of day in the fir. <br />Swift rings of sweet water were rolled <br />Down the ways where the lily-leaves grew, <br />And the green, and the white, and the gold, <br />Were wedded with purple and blue. <br /> <br />But the lips of the flower of the rose <br />Said, “where is the ending hereof? <br />Is it sweet with you, life, at the close? <br />Is it sad to be emptied of love?” <br />And the voice of the flower of the peach <br />Was tender and touching in tone, <br />“When each has been grafted on each, <br />It is sorrow to live on alone.” <br /> <br />Then the leaves of the flower of the vine <br />Said, “what will there be in the day <br />When the reapers are red with my wine, <br />And the forests are yellow and grey?” <br />And the tremulous flower of the quince <br />Made answer, “three seasons ago <br />My sisters were star-like, but since, <br />Their graves have been made in the snow.” <br /> <br />Then the whispering flower of the fern <br />Said, “who will be sad at the death, <br />When Summer blows over the burn, <br />With the fierceness of fire in her breath?” <br />And the mouth of the flower of the sedge <br />Was opened to murmur and sigh, <br />“Sweet wind-breaths that pause at the edge <br />Of the nightfall, and falter, and die.”<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-valley-5/
