The Poetry Corner

Spring

By John Le Gay Brereton

Spring, and the wispy clouds that fade away And draw the ecstatic soul in pain to aspire In maddening flight through heavens thin flood of fire To melt in rapture at the heart of day, The powers of the world that promise and betray Have dragged me from you in their icy ire And set me spinning at their loom, for hire, The shroud in which my senses must decay. For hire I give myself, and cannot tell If the blind force that flings me in the chest Have power or will to pay the bargained price, Yet for a word of love I gladly quell The quivering hope of not inactive rest And very humbly make my sacrifice.