INTERCHANGE, a poem

THE oriole sang in the apple tree;
     The sick girl lay on her bed, and heard
     The tremulous note of the glad wild bird;
And, "Ah!" she sighed, "to share with thee
     Life's rapture exquisite and strong:
Its hope, its eager energy,
     Its fragrance and its song!"

The oriole swayed in the apple tree,
     And he sang: "I will build, with my love, a nest,
     Fine as e'er welcomed a birdling guest:
Like a pendant blossom, secure yet free,
     It shall hang from the bough above me there,
Bright, bright with the gold that is combed for me
     From the sick girl's auburn hair!"

So he built the nest in the apple tree;
     And, burnished over, a ball of light,
     It gleamed and shone in the sick girl's sight,
And she gazed upon it wonderingly:
     But when the bird had forever flown,
They brought the nest from the apple tree
     To the bed where she lay alone.

"O builder of this mystery!"—
     The wide and wistful eyes grew dim,
     And the soul of the sick girl followed him—
"Dear bird! I have had part, through thee,
     In the life for which I long and long:
Have shared its hope, its energy,
     Its rapture and its song!"

"Interchange" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (November 1902), Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

PENDANT NEST OF THE BALTIMORE ORIOLE
Wikimedia Commons

SONG, a poem

HER cheek is like a tinted rose
     That June hath fondly cherished,
Her heart is like a star that glows
     When day hath darkling perished,
Her voice is as a songbird's sweet,
     The drowsy wolds awaking—
But, ah, her love is past compare,
     And keeps my heart from breaking!

Lost sunbeams light her tresses free,
     Along their shadows gleaming!
Her smiles entangle memory
     And set the soul a-dreaming,
Her thoughts, like seraphs, upward soar,
     Earth's narrow bounds forsaking—
But, ah, her love abides with me
     And keeps my heart from breaking!

"Song" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (April 1892), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

MASEFIELD, a poem

On re-reading Gallipoli and the Sonnets

I thought on England in her tragic hour
     Of sacrifice supreme for human right;
     Beheld her bleeding, broken in the fight
With a massed tyranny's stupendous power;
And musing on far graves where lie her flower
     Of manhood, memory so dimmed my sight
     That I forgot the dawn that crowned her night—
The victory that was her valor's dower.

Then, even as I grieved, I saw once more
     How genius can atone and re-create:
How, by its own high gift, it can restore
     The Land that gives it birth to sovereign State,
Rekindling glories that it knew before,
     And deepening its life to life as great!

"Masefield" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The North American Review (May 1922).

INHERITOR, a poem

SAY not the gods are cruel,
     Since man himself is kind—
Man, who could give no tenderness
     If, impotent and blind,
He stretched appealing hands on high
     No tenderness to find,—

Who, wakened to compassion,
     No longer stands apart,
Careless of others' suffering,
     But, rather, shares the smart,
Because of pity drawn from out
     The Universal Heart,—

Who feels within him glowing
     A spark that dares aspire,
Flame-like, unto supernal things,
     With never-quenched desire,
And knows that Heaven bestowed on him
     A spark of its own fire!

"Inheritor" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Outlook (24 April 1909) and Lyrics of Life (1909).

The Creation of Adam
Michelangelo

SHAKESPEARE, a poem

O'ER-TOPPING all—upon how lone a height!—
     A demiurge beneficent, a seer
     Like his own Prospero, he doth appear,
'Mid clouds that half conceal him from our sight,
A being god-like in creative might:
     He who so very human was! so near
     To Nature that her voice through him we hear—
Her voice of truth and beauty infinite.

Shakespeare! With love and awe we breathe his name
Who needs not mortal praise! Deathless in fame,
     Far from our dull activities he seems;
But let us turn, a-wearied, from the strife,
To share with him the high adventure,—life,
     Straightway we feel the stirrings of Great Dreams!

"Shakespeare" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Poems (1916) Volume I.

NEAR AND FAR, a poem

For a beautiful reading of this poem—recorded on 21 March 2011 by Jannie Meisberger for Librivox.org—click on the title below as she gives voice to...

Photo by Ashley Bohm.

NEAR AND FAR
by Florence Earle Coates

THE air is full of perfume and the promise of the spring,
   From wintry mould the dainty blossoms come;
There's not a bird in all the boughs but's eager now to sing,
   And from afar a ship is sailing home!

The cherry-blooms, all lightly blown about the verdant sward,
   With silver fleck the dandelion's gold;
The jasmine and arbutus breathe the fragrance they have stored;
   The crumpled ferns, like faery tents, unfold.

And low the rills are laughing, and the rivers in the sun
   Are gliding on, impatient for the sea;
The wintry days are past and gone, the summer is begun,
   And love from far is sailing home to me!

Ah, blessed spring!—how far more sweet than any spring of yore!
   No note of all thy harmonies is dumb;
With thee my heart awakes to hope and happiness once more,—
   And from afar a ship is sailing home!

As rendered in Poems (1916) Vol. I; also published in Poems (1898).

IN A COLLEGE SETTLEMENT, a poem

THE sights and sounds of the wretched street
Oppressed me, and I said: "We cheat
     Our hearts with hope. Man sunken lies
In vice, and naught that's fair or sweet
     Finds further favor in his eyes.

"Vainly we strive, in sanguine mood,
To elevate a savage brood
     That, from the cradle, sordid, dull,
No longer has a wish for good,
     Or craving for the beautiful."

I said; but chiding my despair,
My wiser friend just pointed where,
     By some indifferent passer thrown
Upon a heap of ashes bare,
     The loose leaves of a rose were sown.

And I, 'twixt tenderness and doubt,
Beheld, while pity grew devout,
     A squalid and uneager child,
With careful fingers picking out
     The scentless petals, dust-defiled.

And straight I seemed to see a close,
With hawthorn hedged and brier-rose;
     And, bending down, I whispered, "Dear,
Come, let us fly, while no one knows,
     To the country—far away from here!"

Upon the little world-worn face
There dawned a look of wistful grace,
     Then came the question that for hours
Still followed me from place to place:
     "Real country, where you can catch flowers?"

"In a College Settlement" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Weekly (21 April 1894), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

AB HUMO, a poem

THE seedling hidden in the sod
     Were ill content immured to stay;
     Slowly it upward makes its way
And finds the light at last, thank God!

The most despised of mortal things—
     The worm devoid of hope or bliss,
     Discovers in the chrysalis
Too narrow space for urgent wings.

These are my kindred of the clay;
     But as I struggle from the ground
     Such weakness in my strength is found,
I seem less fortunate than they;

Yet though my progress be but slow,
     And failure oft obscure the past,
     I, too, victorious at last,
Shall reach the longed-for light, I know!

"Ab Humo" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (April 1905), Lyrics of Life (1909) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

LOVE AND THE CHILD, a poem

LOVE came into the world and said:
"With the tender infant on this bed
     Shall be my home; I will impart
     The winning graces to its heart
That blessing in life's pathway spread."

So—for Love crooned its lullabies—
His own smile dawned within its eyes,
     And into its small being stole
     The laughing radiance of his soul,
And all its eager sympathies.

Unconscious as the flowers that bless—
A tiny flame of lovingness—
     To any palm it gave at once
     A dimpled hand, in quick response,
Nor what "a stranger" meant might guess.

That to distrust is often well,
It heard with smile ineffable.
     Then, on a morn, Love came to say:
     "Thou child of mine, come, come away!
In Paradise to dwell!"

"Love and the Child" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (April 1912), The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

THEY TOLD ME, a poem

THEY told me: "Pan is dead—Nature is dead:
There is no God." I read
The words of Socrates, and then I read
Of Jesus; and I said:—
"Divinity's not dead!"

Good can nor poisoned be
Nor slain upon a tree:
The soul of good, escaping, still is free,
And in its ministry
Lives God eternally.

"They Told Me" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, a poem

"Eripuit cœlo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis."

FRANKLIN! our Franklin! America's loved son!—
     Loved in his day, and now, as few indeed:
Franklin! whose mighty genius allies won,
     To aid her in great need!

Franklin! with noble charm that fear allays,
     Tact, judgment, insight, humor naught could dim!—
"Antiquity," said Mirabeau, "would raise
     Altars to honor him!"

How should one country claim him, or one hour?
     Bound to no narrow circuit, and no time,
He is the World's—part of her lasting dower,
     One with her hope sublime.

His kindred are the equable and kind
     Whose constant thought is to uplift and bless;
The witty, and the wise, the large of mind,
     Who ignorance redress:

His kindred are the bold who, undismayed,
     Believe that good is ever within reach;
All who move onward—howsoe'er delayed—
     Who learn, that they may teach;

Who overcoming pain and weariness,
     In life's long battle bear a noble part;
All who, like him,—greatest of gifts!—possess
     The genius of the heart!

How should we praise whose deeds belittle praise,
     Whose monument perpetual is our land
Saved by his wisdom, in disastrous days,
     From tyranny's strong hand?—

How praise whose Titan-thought, beyond Earth's ken
     Aspiring, tamed the lightnings in revolt,
Subduing to the will of mortal men
     The awful thunderbolt?

Our debt looms larger than our love can pay:
     We know not with what homage him to grace
Whose name outlasts the monument's decay,—
     A glory to our race!

"Benjamin Franklin" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Reader (March 1906), Lyrics of Life (1909) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

*"Eripuit coelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis": A line in Latin that Marquis Turgot wrote under a portrait of Franklin.  An English translation by James Elphinston (pre-1817): "He snatcht the bolt from Heaven's avenging hand, / Disarm'd and drove the tyrant from the land.

THROUGH THE RUSHES, a poem

THROUGH the rushes by the river
     Runs a drowsy tremor sweet,
And the waters stir and shiver
     In the darkness at their feet;
From the sombre east up-stealing,
Gradual, with slow revealing,
Comes the dawn, and with a sigh
          Night goes by.

Here and there, to mildest wooing,
     Folded buds are open-blown;
And the drops their leaves bedewing,
     Like to seed-pearls thickly sown,
Sinking, with the blessing olden,
Deep into each calyx golden,
A supreme behest obey,
          Then melt away.

And while robes of splendor trailing,
     Fitly deck the glowing morn,
And a fragrance, fresh exhaling,
     Greets her loveliness new-born,
Midst divine melodic voicings,
Midst delicious mute rejoicings,
Strong as when the worlds began,
          Awakens Pan!

"Through the Rushes" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Atlantic Monthly (March 1892), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

"Lycidas is dead, and hath not left his peer!"

Matthew Arnold

(1822-1888)

On this day...in 1888

Matthew Arnold dies

Six years after Matthew Arnold passed into "quiet realms Elysian," Florence Earle Coates dedicated her pen in tribute to her friend and mentor, Matthew Arnold—British poet and cultural critic.  Coates and Arnold first met in New York in 1883 at the home of Andrew Carnegie, and soon formed a lasting friendship.  Arnold's last letter to Mrs. Coates is dated February 24, 1888, in which he speaks of his remembrance of his last visit to Philadelphia, and of her tulip-trees and maples.

Matthew Arnold

by Florence Earle Coates

The Century Magazine, April 1894: 931-7.

IT is told of one of our poets that, when in England, he was asked who took Matthew Arnold's place in America, and he answered, "Matthew Arnold." The reply would still be just, and, excepting as he fills it, the place of Matthew Arnold must long continue vacant. Men of genius are not replaced, and if, dying, they leave their work half done, the loss is irreparable. But Arnold's message was delivered, whether in verse or prose, with an amplitude and distinctness to which few messages may lay claim, and is "full of foretastes of the morrow." [read more...]

Poems on the "Titanic"

Wikimedia Commons
RMS Titanic

THE BAND OF THE TITANIC
"These are the immortal,—the fearless"—Upanishads

UP, lads! they say we've struck a berg, though there's no danger yet,—
     Our noble liner was not built to wreck!—
But women may have felt a shock they're needing to forget,
     And when there's trouble, men should be on deck.

Come!—now's the time! They're wanting us to brighten them a bit;
     Play up, my lads—as lively as you can!
Give them a merry English air! they want no counterfeit
     Like that down-hearted tune you just began!...

I think the Captain's worried, lads: maybe the thing's gone wrong;
     Well, we will show them all is right with us!
Of Drake and the Armadas now we'll play them such a song
     Shall make them of the hero emulous.

When boats are being lowered, lads, your place and mine are here,—
     Oh, we were never needed more than now!
When others go, it is for us those left behind to cheer,
     And I am glad, my lads, that we know how!

If it is Death that's calling us, we'll make a brave response;
     Play up, play up!—ye may not play again;
The prize that Nelson won at last, the chance that comes but once,
     Is ours, my lads!—the chance to die like men!

"The Band of the Titanic" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (July 1912), The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

THE "TITANIC"—AFTERMATH

O NATURE! overmastered by thy power,
Man is a hero still
And knighthood is in flower!
All save his tameless will
Thou can'st subdue by thine appalling might;
But failest utterly to quench his spirit's light.

Yea, though he seem, in conflict with thy strength,
A pygmy of the dust,
Heroic man, at length
Greater than thou, through trust,
Sovereign through something thou can'st not enslave,
Finds once again, in death, the life he scorned to save!

"The Titanic—Aftermath" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Unconquered Air (1912).

On 18 May 1912, the New York Times reports that Mr. and Mrs. Coates are among those aboard the S. S. Minnewaska en route to London.  This voyage would take place one month after the sinking of the Titanic.  Sometime between then and July 1912, Mrs. Coates would write "The Band of the Titanic." She would also pen "The Titanic—Aftermath" to be published in The Unconquered Air and Other Poems released in November of the same year.  The Coates' were likely headed to painter John McLure Hamilton's home in Murestead, Grove End Road, London, N. W., England, for it was there, during the summer of 1912, that Mr. Hamilton painted their portraits.

Edward H. Coates (1912)
by John McLure Hamilton

The Philadelphia Inquirer, on 10 November 1912, describes the portrait of Mrs. Coates (not shown) as possessing "to a marked degree the charm and vivacity of the sitter, and while it is not an unqualified success in the drawing of the head, the perspective of which is open to criticism, it resembles the curate's egg in the excellence of its parts.  The hands are sympathetic and really rather wonderful in their character."

INDIA, a poem

SILENT amidst unbroken silence deep
     Of dateless years, in loneliness supreme,
     She pondered patiently one mighty theme,
     And let the hours, uncounted, by her creep.
The motionless Himalayas, the broad sweep
     Of glacial cataracts, great Ganges' stream—
     All these to her were but as things that seem,
Doomed all to pass, like phantoms viewed in sleep

Her history? She has none—scarce a name.
     The life she lived is lost in the profound
          Of time, which she despised; but nothing mars
The memory that, single, gives her fame—
     She dreamed eternal dreams, and from the ground
          Still raised her yearning vision to the stars.

"India" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Century Magazine (November 1891), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

SURVIVAL, a poem

THE knell that dooms the voiceless and obscure
     Stills Memnon's music with its ghostly chime;
     Strength is as weakness in the clasp of Time,
And for the things that were there is no cure.
The vineyard with its fair investiture,
     The mountain summit with its hoary rime,
     The throne of Cæsar, Cheops' tomb sublime,
Alike decay, and only dreams endure.

Dreams for Assyria her worship won,
     And India is hallowed by her dreams;
The Sphinx with deathless visage views the race
     That like the lotus of a summer seems;
And, rudderless, immortally sails on
The wingèd Victory of Samothrace.

"Survival" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Atlantic Monthly (April 1893), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

NATURE, a poem

TO see thee, hear thee, wistful watch I keep—
     Mother, who in Immensity dost dwell—
A child who listens for the boundless deep,
     Her ear against a shell:

And vainly though I seek thy face to scan,
     Lost in the vasty temple where thou art,
Faint breathings of thy voice æolian
     Vibrate against my heart.

"Nature" by Florence Earle Coates. Published as "As from Afar" in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (November 1904) and Mine and Thine (1904), and as "Nature" in Poems (1916) Volume I.

On this day in 1895

Mrs. Coates is elected president of The Browning Society of Philadelphia.  She would serve as president from 1895 to 1903, and again from 1907 to 1908. See also President of the Browning Society of Philadelphia

Invitation to the 1895-96 Browning Society elections,
the year Mrs. Coates was elected president.

AT BREAK OF DAY, a poem

I THOUGHT that past the gates of doom,
     Where Orpheus played a strain divine
     Of love importunate as mine,
Unto the dwellings of the dead I came through paths of gloom.

Around me, looming dark through cloud,
     Vast walls arose whence mournful fell
     The shadow and the hush of hell;
And silence, brooding, palpable, enwrapped me like a shroud.

Naught blossomed there; in that chill place
     Where longing dwells divorced from hope,
     Naught to a joyless horoscope
Lent prophecies of future grace, but—I beheld thy face!

And I awoke,—songs trembling near,—
     Awoke and saw day's chariot pass
     Bright gleaming o'er the meadow-grass,
And knew this glad earth without thee, than realms of Death more drear!

"At Break of Day" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Century Magazine (April 1892), Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

WITH BREATH OF SPRING, a poem

     THE air is full of balm, I know;
The winter vanished long ago.
In sheltered plots along the street
Crocus and tiny snowdrop meet,
And children skip about and play—
Rejoicing in the glad noonday—
Or loiter 'neath some budding bough
Where bird-notes will be warbled now—
          Outside the prison wall.

     The brook, by winter long enchained,
Flows through the meadow unrestrained;
The violet will blossom soon,
The moth will break from the cocoon;
And where the happy children sing,
The fledgling bird will try his wing,—
But, O my heart! the sunshine there!—
The grateful shade!—the boon, free air—
          Outside the prison wall!

"With Breath of Spring" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Era (April 1903) and Lyrics of Life (1909).

BREATHLESS WE STRIVE, a poem

Wordsworth's Dove Cottage, Grasmere, England
Wikimedia

BREATHLESS we strive, contending for success,
     According to the standards of our day.
     What is success? Is it to find a way
Wealth out of all proportion to possess?
Is it to care for simple pleasures less
     (While grasping at a more extended sway),
     And sacrificing to our gods of clay,
Submerge the soul, at last, in worldliness?

By Grasmere stands a cottage small and poor:
     The Dove was once its emblem, and the sign
That marked it as a wayside inn obscure;
But, frugal, dwelt high consecration here,
     And gratitude still guards it as a shrine,
Hallowed by that success which time but makes more dear!

"Breathless We Strive" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Century Magazine (September 1904), Mine and Thine (1904) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

On this day in 1927: Florence Earle Coates dies

Church of the Redeemer
Bryn Mawr, PA
March, 2016

...They live indeed—the dead
By whose example we are upward led...

 
Florence Earle Coates died in Hahnemann Hospital, Philadelphia on 6 April 1927. In 1924 she "contracted a form of nephritis ["chronic interstitial nephritis" as per death certificate] which led to a cerebral hemorrhage and death three years later." (Notable American Women, 1607-1950: A Biographical Dictionary, 1971.) A funeral service announcement clipping found opposite p. 109 in a copy of The Unconquered Air (1912) states that her funeral would be held at her home on April 9th at 2:00 pm.  Within the same pages holds a note stating that Mrs. Coates' poem "Immortal" was read at the funeral service.

Mrs. Coates is buried in the churchyard of the Church of the Redeemer in Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania next to her husband Edward Hornor Coates. The inscription on Mrs. Coates' headstone, "THEY LIVE INDEED—THE DEAD BY WHOSE EXAMPLE WE ARE UPWARD LED", is taken from a memorial poem she wrote for Eliza Sproat Turner (who died ca. 1903) entitled "In Memory." Florence's husband's inscription, "HIGH THOUGHT SEATED IN A HEART OF COURTESY," is based on Sir Philip Sydney's description of an honorable man and gentleman.

Digital drawing by Sonja N. Bohm

IMMORTAL, a poem

HOW living are the dead!
Enshrined, but not apart,
How safe within the heart
We hold them still—our dead,
Whatever else be fled!

Our constancy is deep
Toward those who lie asleep,
Forgetful of the strain and mortal strife
That are so large a part of this our earthly life.

They are our very own:
From them—from them alone,
Nothing can us estrange—
Nor blight autumnal, no; nor wintry change!

The midnight moments keep
A place for them; and though we wake to weep,
They are beside us: still, in joy, in pain—
In every crucial hour, they come again,
Angelic from above—
Bearing the gifts of blessing and of love—
Until the shadowy path they lonely trod
Becomes for us a bridge that upward leads to God.

"Immortal" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (January 1911), The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

KINDRED, a poem

TENDER grass in April springing,
     Scent of lilacs wet with rain,
Bluebird jubilantly singing
     Snatches of a loved refrain,

Falcon soaring high above me,
     Light of stars in deeps divine,
Creeping earth-bound things that move me
     To compassion, ye are mine!

Wind in varied cadence playing
     Mystic runes on harps unseen,
Blossom hardily delaying
     Where lost summer late hath been,

Shadow drifting o'er the mountain,
     Mist blown inward from the sea,
Hidden spring and bubbling fountain,—
     Ye are mine and parts of me!

What am I? The stars have made me,
     And the dust to which I cleave,
Rivers, and the hills that aid me,
     Past and future, morn and eve,

Nightshade lightly plucked unknowing,
     Roses fondly twined with rue,
Harvestings of mine own sowing,
     And from fields I never knew!

I have gained mid loss and capture
     Strength not found in vanquishing,
Sharing oft the mounting rapture,
     Trailing oft the broken wing;

Kindred with the sunlight streaming
     Where nor dew nor rain-drop gleams,
With the parchèd desert dreaming
     Incommunicable dreams,

Laid in cavern-bed at even,
     Throned on rose-flushed Apennine—
Multitudinous earth and heaven,
     Naught ye hold that is not mine!

"Kindred" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Harper's Monthly Magazine (November 1908), Lyrics of Life (1909) and Poems (1916) Volume I.

On this day in 1830

Ellen Frances VAN LEER Earle, mother of Florence Earle Coates, was born on 5 April 1830, having descended from a family long members of the Society of Friends. Mrs. Earle died on 19 May 1892 in Germantown, PA. See also: "Mother"

Original image and retouch. Original courtesy of Florence Earle Morrisey,
from the scrapbook of Frances Earle Johnson (sister of Mrs. Coates).

WOULDST THOU LEARN, a poem

WOULDST thou learn what coldness is,
     Seek it not where Hebrus flows,
Shuddering, to the abyss;
     Nor where Hermon's gleaming snows,
     On its frozen heights, repose;
But on such a morn as this,
     When no blade of grass is dumb,
When the birds, low-twittering, build,
And Earth's heart is passion-thrill'd,—
     Come to Love's deserted home!

"Wouldst thou learn" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

POOR ICARUS, a poem

The Fall of Icarus
Wikimedia Commons

POOR Icarus!—to soar so high,
Then fall! For you 't was vain to try
     By cunning craft, on faithless wings,
     To capture empyrean things,
That still to men the Fates deny!

Yet, even knowing Death so nigh,
Had you reluctant been to fly
     Beyond earth's sure, safe harborings,—
          Poor Icarus?

I think not so. All, all must die!
But you the pathways of the sky
     Found first, and tasted heavenly springs,
     Unfettered as the lark that sings,
And knew strange raptures,—though we sigh:
          "Poor Icarus!"

"Poor Icarus" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in The Unconquered Air (1912) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

APRIL, a poem

SWELLING bud and fond suggestion,
     Wafting of perfume,
Tearful rapture, thrilling question
     Of restraint or bloom,
Life all dreamlessly asleeping,
     As in death, but now,
Upward to the sunlight creeping,—
     April, that is thou!

Mystery's authentic dwelling,
     Faith's expanding wing,
Maiden loveliness foretelling
     Fuller blossoming,
Prophet of the new creation,
     Priestess of the bough,
Month of the imagination,—
     April, that is thou!

"April" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (April 1908), Lyrics of Life (1909) and Poems (1916) Volume II.

IN APRIL, a poem

WHEN beeches bud and lilacs blow,
     And Earth puts on her magic green;
When dogwoods bear their vernal snow
     And skies grow deep the stars between,—
Then, O ye birds! awake and sing
The gladness at the heart of Spring!

When flowers blossom for the poor,
     And Nature heals the hurt of years,
When wondering Love resists the cure,
     Yet hopes again, and smiles through tears,—
Then, O ye birds! awake and sing
The gladness at the heart of Spring!

"In April" by Florence Earle Coates. Published in Poems (1898) and Poems (1916) Volume I.