The Last Spring

By Thomas S. Jones Jr.

1882-1932


The first glad token of the Spring is here
         That bears each time one miracle the more,
         For in the sunlight is the golden ore,
The joyous promise of a waking year;
And in that promise all clouds disappear
         And youth itself comes back as once before,
         For only dreams are real in April's store
When buds are bursting and the skies are clear.

Fair Season! at your touch the sleeping land
         Quickens to rapture, and a rosy flame
         Is the old signal of awakening;
Thus in a mystery I understand
         The deepest meaning of your lovely name --
         How it will be in that perpetual Spring!

DayPoems Poem No. 1335
<a href="http://www.daypoems.net/poems/1335.html">The Last Spring by Thomas S. Jones Jr.</a>

The DayPoems Poetry Collection, www.daypoems.net
Timothy Bovee, editor

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