Childhood In Spring Poem by Nero CaroZiv

How much I loved a day of spring of my childhood
Years ago before my life turned to burden and anxiety of manhood
It was an April early morning: fresh, clear and pleasantly chill
Streams and rivulets, siege by bending reeds delighting in their strength and will
Ran with a field hare speed; and yet the voice of murmur
Of waters which the late winter had rained before spring became warmer


And then the water was softened down into a vernal tone.
For hours for me it was the spirit of enjoyment and desire, not to dissipate soon
And hopes and wishes, from all living things of versatile nature
Went circling, like a multitude of musical sounds.
The budding groves seemed eager to urge on with plains around
The steps of June on meadows and fields; as if their various hues developed into form of mature


There were no hindrances that stood between
Me and all surround trees, grass, flowers and sky vaults as far as the horizon was seen
Such an entire contentment in the air
That every naked ash, and tardy tree or a rabbit hidden lair
Such smooth new foliage, showed as if the countenance
With which it looked on this delightful day of spring observance


In hot summer morning up the shoulder less lush banks brook
I roamed in the confusion and zeal of my heart,
The sharp blades of the tall reeds cutting thru my face
Yet none of that my glee and breath took
I and Nature seemed as eternal friends never to part
In that wild abundance of holy grace


I was aware and alive to all things and forgetting all daily jading games
For at length I to a sudden turning conclusion came
In that continuous glen, where down a rock
The Stream, so vivid and ardent in its course before,
Sent forth such sallies of glad sound, that all
Which I till then had heard, appeared the voice of plain amaze and stunning shock



That was of common pleasure: beast and bird, the lamb and meadow,
The shepherd dogs herding around, the linnet and the thrush of shower
Vying with this waterfall, and made a breath taking song,
Which, while I listened, seemed like the wild growth long
Or like some natural produce of the air,
That could not cease to be or interrupted. Green bright leaves were here;


Copy Rights 2010
All Rights reserved