I FEEL newer life in every gale;
The winds, that fan the flowers,
And with their welcome breathings fill the sail,
Tell of serener hours--
Of hours that glide unfelt away
beneath the sky of May.
The spirit of the gentle south-wind calls
From his blue throne of air,
And where his whispering voice in music falls,
Beauty is budding there;
The bright ones of the valley break
Their slumbers, and awake.
The waving verdue rolls along the plain,
And the wide forest weaves,
To welcome back its playful mates again,
A canopy of leaves;
And from its darkening shadow floats
A gush of trembling notes.
Fairer and brighter spreads the reign of May;
The tresses of the woods
With the light dallying of the west-wind play;
And the full-brimming floods,
As gladly to their goal they run,
Hail the returning sun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i failed to find a definition for verdue online although i found some old quotes which contained the word. interesting rhyme scheme. my oldest brother, the geneologist of my family, tells me this poet is/was a relative of him and me/he and i? ha, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , really though. bri :)