THE young Spring air was strong like wine, <br />The sky reflected in your eyes <br />Was of a blue as deep-divine <br />As ever glowed in southern skies. <br /> <br /> <br />We passed from out the sunny lane <br />Into the green wood's shadowing; <br />And, sudden, all Love's words seemed vain <br />In that calm temple of the Spring. <br /> <br /> <br />Our god hears fair and tuneful words, <br />And splendid flowers his altars bear; <br />With choric song of leaves and birds, <br />Another god was worshipped there. <br /> <br /> <br />Silent, we passed the woodland, through <br />The coloured maze that Springtime weaves-- <br />The light leaves dancing to the blue, <br />The sunlight dancing to the leaves; <br /> <br /> <br />I could not speak. I touched your hand <br />At the green arch that ends the wood: <br />'Ah--if she should not understand!' <br />Ah--if you had not understood!<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-sanctuary/
