Ode to Spring

Spring, step not softly, renovate the sense!

My trembling thoughts unravel into leaves,

With your perfumes the new-born air is dense,

And every tendril to your trellis cleaves.

 

The world is but a canvas for your brush,

Your palette infinite with every hue;

Your rivulets incite the river’s rush,

And every flower sips your frigid dew.

 

Waft upward with your winds my dreaming kite,

That bridges longing to your fleeting clouds;

On your fair breezes let my soul take flight;

Release all spirits from their winter shrouds!

 

And weave, O Spring, your garlands for the brow

Of Him who came to die, that we live now.

 

Dominica de Passione

Anno MMXVI

© Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.