Bronze Hour

From winter's crystal castle through the door

March left ajar, blond April trips again,

Calling to sleeping streams and trees before

She emerald-carpets all her glad domain.

What joy to hear the laughter of the hills,

The singing of the prairies through the rain!

The golden goblets of the daffodils

Hold spring's cologne. The lark sends from his flute

A fount of splashing stars in cadenced trills.

Filled with a beauty-ecstasy, as mute

And motionless I stand at the bronze hour

Of dawn, my heart-songs silently salute,

In awe, the Great Creator. By His power

The sun bursts forth, a blinding amber flower.