A Golden Hour

A BECKONING spirit of gladness seemed afloat,

That lightly danced in laughing air before us:

The earth was all in tune, and you a note

Of Nature's happy chorus.

'Twas like a vernal morn, yet overhead

The leafless boughs across the lane were knitting:

The ghost of some forgotten Spring, we said,

O'er Winter's world comes flitting.

Or was it Spring herself, that, gone astray,

Across the unsentried frontier chose to tarry?

Or just a bold outrider of the May,

Or April-emissary?

The apparition faded on the air,

Capricious and incalculable comer. —

Wilt thou too pass, and leave my chill days bare,

And fall'n my phantom Summer?

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