“
Now reading
The Bud
TWO POEMS
THE BUD
I felt as though my heart
would break in twain asunder,
looking upon the wonder
of imminent green art
in woods where proudly start-
only to end again-
buds fat with mortal plunder.
The truest loveliest pain
is that of ecstasy; the best |
is speechlessness where such things rise:
and but a clenching in the breast,
and but a smarting in the eyes.
THUNDER-CLOUD