White April and Other Poems

White April and Other Poems

White April and Other Poems

White April and Other Poems

Excerpt

WHITE APRIL

The orchard is a pool, wherein I drown;

It is a very pool of loveliness.

I clutch the edge of a white world and press

To bottomless white billows down and down:

I clutch, I gasp, and all at once each spring

That I have known comes sharply to my mind,

Passes before me, and each one I find,

Stirs in me a packed, swift remembering.

Oh, pear-trees, ancient by an ancient lane,

A. hundred at the delicate white start,

Tall waves that roll and break upon a shore!

I struggle up, I am myself again:

Dripping with April, April to the heart,

I run back to the house, and bolt the door!

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