Mathilde Blind Poems

BRIGHT as a morn of spring,
That jubilates along the earth,
With clouds, and winds, and flowers rejoicing,
...

THE maiden meadows softly blush
Beneath the enamoured breeze,
And break into one purple flush
Of frail anemones.
...

The Hunter's Moon rides high,
High o'er the close-cropped plain;
Across the desert sky
The herded clouds amain
...

I.
SHE stood against the Orient sun,
Her face inscrutable for light;
A myriad larks in unison
...

PEACH trees and Judas trees,
Poppies and roses,
Purple anemones
In garden closes!
...

Thy life, O Man, in this brief moment lies:
Time's narrow bridge whereon we darkling stand,
With an infinitude on either hand
Receding luminously from our eyes.
...

Like putting forth upon a sea
On which the moonbeams shimmer,
Where reefs and unknown perils be
To wreck, yea, wreck one utterly,
...

I planted a rose tree in my garden,
In early days when the year was young;
I thought it would bear me roses, roses,
While nights were dewy and days were long.
...

From out the front of being, undefiled,
A life hath been upheaved with struggle and pain;
Safe in her arms a mother holds again
That dearest miracle--a new-born child.
...

NOT in the hour of peril, thronged with foes,
Panting to set their heel upon my head,--
Or when alone from many wounds I bled
...