Treasure Island

Peter S. Quinn


From April


These days are from April
When spring is coming in
With the dreams of the hill
In green blossoms to win

Hours grow their backyard
From daybreaks rising deep
And from the dim are barred
With blossoms true to keep

Each secret lane of sorrow
Is now in muttered stain
And here is now tomorrow
With their stone and grain

These summer days of April
The song of growing hills
In dreams of silence still
And each new coming thrill

When day and night together
Are like one in each one
In beautiful spring weather
Until those dreams are gone

Submitted: Saturday, April 10, 2010
Edited: Saturday, April 10, 2010

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