Chant of Spring

Like an unhappy woman Earth frees herself from the arms of Winter, Surely Winter, her indifferent Lord, Whose touch is death to her passionate body, And, weeping, yields to Spring, the wooing maiden, The slim girl who kisses her with awakening kisses, Burning her lips and eyelids with flaming mouth loosed upon them, Renewing her body with wildness of young caresses, Holding her close while the reckless hours dance to death.

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Wan passion flowers growing in hidden places, Memories, Kisses given by the slim maiden. Wan passion flowers, All that is left to Earth of her maddest lover.

-- Elsa Gidlow --> https://poets.org/poet/elsa-gidlow ↗️