Spring In East Texas
By Mary S. Fitzgerald
Today, I stood with aching throat,
In sunny meadows, starred with gold,
Where daisies open drowsy eyes
When burnished buttercups unfold.
And I have paused in wonderment
Before a dazzling dogwood tree,
To barter Care for shining dreams
Beneath its green—white mystery.
As close beside Spring’s queenly bride,
The redbuds’ winsome sprays
Are lifted to a mist-veiled sky,
The treetops thrill to roundelays
Of mocking-birds and cardinals
Cascading silver-sweet,
When wayward wild verbenas
Spread a carpet at my feet.
But oh! the witching fragrance,
Of a fair crab-apple tree
In crinkled, rosy-petalled frock,
Awakens Grief,—and Ecstasy;
For intermingled with delight,
Comes grey Remembering,—
And Joy that stabs my heart with pain:
I’ve one less Texas Spring!
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