The Promise Of The Hawthorn - Richard Mitchley

The Promise Of The Hawthorn by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Spring sleeps and stirs and trembles with desire

Pure a babe's that nestles toward the breast

The world as yet an all unstricken lyre

With all it's chords alive and all at rest

Feels not the sun's hand yet but feels his breath

And yearns for love made perfect Man and bird

Thrilled through with hope of life that casts out death

Wait with a rapturous patience till his word

Speak heaven and flower by flower and tree by tree

Give back the silent strenuous utterance Earth

Alive awhile and joyful as the sea

Laughs not aloud in joy too deep for mirth

Presageful of perfection of delight

Till all the unborn green buds be born in white