Not Yet by Edith C M Dart

Someday I’ll know again, maybe,
All that once made Spring rich for me
Strange sense of beauty’s leaping thrill
At the first budding daffodil,
Swift echo of the blackbird’s song
Within the heart; the sudden throng
Of bud and flower the whole wood through
As when … I walked it, once . . . with you.
Surely I shall be glad again
For April meadows after rain,
For hawthorns white along the lea,
Sky bluer than a summer sea.
When years have gone, will earth not show
Once more her treasures ‘neath the snow,
Waking my heart with crocus gold
Against the darkness of the mould?
Shall I rejoice then o’er and o’er
In the great bounty of Earth’s store?
Maybe . . someday . . . when I forget.
Not yet, beloved, ah! not yet!

From: http://femalewarpoets.blogspot.com/2021/05/edith-cm-dart-1873-1924-british-poet.html

Date: 1920

By: Edith C M Dart (1873-1924)

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