Longings to grow and be vaster,
Sap songs under the blue;
Hints of the Mighty Master
Making his dream come true.

Gaunt limbs winter-scarred, tragic,
Blind seeds under the mold,
Planning new marvels of magic
In scarlet and green and gold!

O passionate, panting, love-laden,
She is coming, she sings in the South—
The World's Bride—April the Maiden—
With the ghost of a rose for a mouth!