Wednesday, May 3, 2017

EVERY HEART, a poem

WHEN wintry wells are water-filled,
And killing Death itself is killed,
Then wingèd things begin to build;
And maids and men with happy birds do sing,
For every heart's a lover in the spring!

When brooklets ripple into song,
And strivings faint of life grow strong,
Then all things 'gin to dream and long;
And maids and men with wistful birds do sing,
For every heart's a poet in the spring!
"Every Heart" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Poems (1916) Volume I.

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