Classic Poem

THE Old N EED

T O-NIGHT I saw the new moon while the vesper bells were ringing,
A slender silver breath it seemed, swung on the April skies.
Soft apple blossoms under it in white throngs were springing,
And blossom-thoughts of you within my heart began to rise.

I saw the moon, I heard the bells, I felt the silver rapture
Of stars that soon would blossom on the purple tree of night.
But from a Universe in bloom I only sought to capture
Soft-petalled words — but three — to tell again love's vernal might.