Treasure Island

William Wilfred Campbell

(1858 - 1918 / Ontario)

Spring


There dwells a spirit in the budding year-
As motherhood doth beautify the face-
That even lends these barren glebes a grace,
And fills grey hours with beauty that were drear
And bleak when the loud, storming March was here:
A glamour that the thrilled heart dimly traces
In swelling boughs and soft, wet, windy spaces,
And sunlands where the chattering birds make cheer.
I thread the uplands where the wind's footfalls
Stir leaves in gusty hollows, autumn's urns.
Seaward the river's shining breast expands,
High in the windy pines a lone crow calls,
And far below some patient ploughman turns
His great black furrow over steaming lands.

Submitted: Thursday, April 15, 2010
Edited: Saturday, May 07, 2011

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Spring by William Wilfred Campbell )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. SYNC 10 WORD, Beryl Dov
  2. First meeting, Kristopher DeLander
  3. Hope, Kristopher DeLander
  4. Silence Is A Beauty To Endure, Monk E. Biz
  5. Home, Kindred velarde
  6. Why? Why? Why?, Praghyanjali Pal
  7. I Cannot At Will Summon The Tone Of Beauty, Shalom Freedman
  8. O, God, Neela Nath
  9. The Seed of Greatness, Silas Egbowon
  10. Metamorphosis, Musfiq us shaleheen

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]