“When in the spring
I go forth at morn
A-quiver with life I sing:
The world and I, new-born.
Then when I see all rampant growing
Beds of tulips o’er the plain,
Like pools and lakes of color glowing,
I would fain
Outstrip all speed, run
Naked in the sun,
Plunge, riot, be immersed,
Quench this color-thirst!
II
Where go the birds when the rain
Roars and sweeps and fells the grain,
When tortured trees groan with pain,
And the storm-worn night is old—
Driven forth from their slumber cold,
Where go the birds?”
Creativity
Exploration
Expression
Nineteenth-Century Creativity for Today
Your Custom Text Here
