SPRING SONG

To winter's troubled sleep must come the tideOf April, with her lark note, virgin lawn,Bud-heavy bough, and gentle rain. InsideThe wintered heart another spring must dawn—A different April, full of penitenceAnd quiet hope. The chastisements of LoveCome softly, in the hush of reverence,Like showers of forgiveness from above.There is an April tenderness withinEach heart, a lark note yearning to be free,A bud of truth to burst the sheath of sinWith silken petals of reality.

April 2, 1960
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