Classic Poem

When the soul of the year through its body of earth
Burst forth in a bloom as of fire,
And the butterflies rose in a rainbow riot of mirth
To flutter and burn and take wing and aspire,
To her garden our Columbine came ...
She was light as her laughter, and bright as blown flame —
Flower, woman and music, and all these the same.

Harlequin
Was a wind of the Spring that came out of the dawn;
He was air, he was whim, he was fancy and mirth,
And his feet on the earth
Were as fleet as the feet of a faun.
He was fickle as glimmers of starlight that shine
On the waves of the rivers of dream; he was tricky as wine;
He was pagan as Pan;
A dancer, a lover, a liar, a wit,
A poet, a satyr, an imp with the face of a man;
And his heart was unstable as wings are that lift
Where the dragonflies drift,
His heart was as wings that turn, dartle and flit,
And his loves were as swift.

And into her garden he came like a spiral of wind that beats down in a shower
Red flower and white flower ...
And their hearts were as swift as the doves in their flight,
Their love was the love of the youth of the world ...
They mingled, they danced, they were shod with delight,
They were sandalled with joy . . . . . . .
She was lifted and whirled,
She was flung, she was swirled, she was driven along
By this carnival wind that had torn her away
From the coronal bloom on the brow of the May
In a whorl as of rapture ... their dancing was visible Song!

His moods were as light as the airs of the dawn;
He loved for an hour, and was gone ...
What matter if flower and red flower
Were flung down in a shower,
And blossom, and blossoms, were trodden and dead?
It was only a wind that had danced with a flower,
When all's done and said!