April—and Dying Poem by Anne Reeve Aldrich
April—and Dying
GREEN blood fresh pulsing through the trees,
Blacks buds, that sun and shower distend;
All other things begin anew,
But I must end.
Warm sunlight on faint-colored sward,
Warm fragrance in the breezes’ breath;
For other things art heat and life,
For me is death.
Monday, September 27, 2010
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