There’s rumor in the mountains streams
Speaking from the sterling springs,
First heard by the magnolias in brief display
With whom I rested as brief a day.
That even still when the frost is gone
That frigid way still flows,
An icy mirror for the moon
It twinkles in the roes.
Red morning fire looks upon that cascading course
Making amber out of polished stone-
And there above the mossess happily endorse
The deadwood and the rock nearest that source,
As if spring lingered in this dell alone.
And at first it will leap
To those little stream bottoms
To carpet the forest
In premonition blossoms
And call to the wind
All fresh with morning dew
To run through the sun soaked pines
Bringing their sharp perfume to you
And here and there and everywhere
We can find the boughs growing or complete
Lightly graced with silver emerald
With wild ferns at their feet
Here in these sheltered valleys
Spring never seems too far
For the lack of interference
Finds flowers in the stars
And here spring stopped a day
Before it’s great pursuit
But yet again wherever i go
Its procession, taking root.
Jul 8, 2024
Jul 8, 2024 at 9:02 PM UTC
There’s rumor in the mountains streams
Speaking from the sterling springs,
First heard by the magnolias in brief display
With whom I rested as brief a day.
That even still when the frost is gone
That frigid way still flows,
An icy mirror for the moon
It twinkles in the roes.
Red morning fire looks upon that cascading course
Making amber out of polished stone-
And there above the mossess happily endorse
The deadwood and the rock nearest that source,
As if spring lingered in this dell alone.
And at first it will leap
To those little stream bottoms
To carpet the forest
In premonition blossoms
And call to the wind
All fresh with morning dew
To run through the sun soaked pines
Bringing their sharp perfume to you
And here and there and everywhere
We can find the boughs growing or complete
Lightly graced with silver emerald
With wild ferns at their feet
Here in these sheltered valleys
Spring never seems too far
For the lack of interference
Finds flowers in the stars
And here spring stopped a day
Before it’s great pursuit
But yet again wherever i go
Its procession, taking root.
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