Spring's Secrets

As once I paused on poet wing
In the green heart of a grove,
I met the Spirit of the Spring
With her great eyes lit of love.

She took me gently by the hand
And whispered in my wondering ear
Secrets none may understand,
Till she make their meaning clear;

Why the primrose looks so pale,
Why the rose is set with thorns;
Why the magic nightingale
Through the darkness mourns and mourns;

How the angels, as they pass
In their vesture pure and white
O'er the shadowy garden grass,
Touch the lilies into light;

How their hidden hands upbear
The fledgling throstle in the air,
And lift the lowly lark on high,
And hold him singing in the sky;

What human hearts delight her most;
The careless child with roses crowned,
The mourner, knowing that his lost
Shall in the Eternal Spring be found.