Classic Poem

April was coming, full
of yellow flowers:
the brook was yellow,
the fence, the hill were yellow,
the children's cemetery,
that orchard where love used to live.

The sun anointed the world in yellow
with its fallen light;
ah, among the golden lilies,
the warm, the golden water;
the yellow butterflies
over yellow roses!

Yellow garlands were climbing
the trees; the day
was a gold-incensed blessing,
in a golden awakening of life.
Among the bones of the dead,
God opened His yellow hands.