Spring

Spring written by Walter de la Mare

The Listeners and Other Poems (1912)

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Once when my life was young,
I, too, with Spring's bright face
By mine, walked softly along,
    Pace to his pace.

Then burned his crimson may,
Like a clear flame outspread,
Arching our happy way:
    Then would he shed

Strangely from his wild face
Wonderful light on me -
Like hounds that keen in chase
    Their quarry see.

Oh, sorrow now to know
What shafts, what keenness cold
His are to pierce me through,
    Now that I'm old.

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