Helen Hay Whitney

1875 - 1944 / United States

Was There Another Spring

WAS there another Spring than this?
I half remember, through the haze
Of glimmering nights and golden days,
A broken-pinioned birdling's note,
An angry sky, a sea-wrecked boat,
A wandering through rain-beaten ways!
Lean closer, love—I have thy kiss!
Was there another Spring than this?
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