THE flowers are at their Bacchanals <br />Among the lusty green; <br />Wild Orchis and Narcissus waltz <br />With Marguerite for queen. <br />Birds join in glees and madrigals <br />To little loves unseen; <br />And unimprisoned Waterfalls <br />Flash laughing in between. <br /> <br />The Sunlight, leaping from the Heights, <br />Flames o'er the fields of May, <br />Winged with unnumbered swallow-flights <br />Fresh from the long sea way; <br /> <br />And butterflies and insect mites, <br />Born with the new-blown day, <br />Cross fires in shifting opal lights <br />From spray to beckoning spray. <br /> <br />The dandelion puffs her balls, <br />Free spinsters of the air, <br />Who scorn to wait for beetle calls <br />Or bees to find them fair; <br />But breaking through the painted walls <br />Their sisters tamely bear, <br />Fly off in dancing down, which falls <br />And sprouts up everywhere. <br /> <br />And far above Earth's flower-filled lap <br />And rosy revelry, <br />The mountain mothers feed her sap <br />From herded clouds on high-- <br />Each pinnacle and frozen pap <br />Whose life has long gone by, <br />A bridge which spans the mighty gap <br />Between the earth and sky. <br />St. Gotthardt.<br /><br />Mathilde Blind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/spring-in-the-alps/
