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Updated: May 1, 2025
The golden-chaliced crocus burns; The long narcissus-blades appear; The cone-beaked hyacinth returns, And lights her blue-flamed chandelier. The willow's whistling lashes, wrung By the wild winds of gusty March, With sallow leaflets lightly strung, Are swaying by the tufted larch.
Still let me dream and sing, Dream of that winding shore Where scarlet cardinals bloom, for me no more, The stream with heaven beneath its liquid floor, And clustering nenuphars Sprinkling its mirrored blue like golden-chaliced stars! Come while their balms the linden-blossoms shed!
The golden-chaliced crocus burns; The long narcissus-blades appear; The cone-beaked hyacinth returns, And lights her blue-flamed chandelier. The willow's whistling lashes, wrung By the wild winds of gusty March, With sallow leaflets lightly strung, Are swaying by the tufted larch.
Still let me dream and sing, Dream of that winding shore Where scarlet cardinals bloom, for me no more, The stream with heaven beneath its liquid floor, And clustering nenuphars Sprinkling its mirrored blue like golden-chaliced stars!
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