Poems (Bushnell)/Spring in the Heart

by Frances Louisa Bushnell

XXVIII
SPRING IN THE HEART

Glad hopes fly down into my waiting heart
  From yonder world of blue,
   That lets them through;
They come as straight and swift as winged dart,
  But soft and light, I trow,
   As bird on bough.

Times there have been when I have all day long
  Gazed wearily aloft
   For pinion soft;
Nor caught as much as distant note of song,
  Or plume dropped on my hand,
   From that far land.

But now the air is gentle with their flight,
  While on soft-sailing wing
   Glad news they bring;
And some fly low, and on my heart alight,
  And weave a little nest
   Within my breast.

It is a simple little song they sing;
  But, such as it may be,
   'Tis sweet to me,—
A song of life renewed and blossoming,
  Full waters, pastures green,
   And days serene.

So it must be they find some verdure here,
  Some little branch abloom,
   Some brooding room,
Where I had said that all were bare and sere;
  Or is it that they see
   Where bloom shall be?

For, best of all, they make themselves a place
  With spreading of their wings,
   The heaven-born things!
Enlarge the heart with motions of their grace,
  And waken blossoms there
   With tuneful air.

I must not hold them fast, that well I know;
  But stretch out wide and free,
   Like some green tree.
Fresh tidings bring they when they come and go,
  And other wing&d guests
   To build new nests.

Go, fly then, little singers, as you will,
  And sing your simple song
   All roads along;
Light on some wayworn hearts and make them thrill
  So softly, it shall seem
   Their inmost dream.