My Treasure Lives
Before the lion-tempered winds of March appear
With violent gusts and maddened frays
To thwart the jubilant return of Spring
My envisioned spirit craves the Summer days.
I pray that frozen Winter's frieze is pale
And lifeless; for in death is born the greatest hope
Of life anew and advent of the budding tree
And then my life can trace a brighter scope
Too soon, too soon I drop the tender seed
Too soon I light the lamp and vigil keep
And long before the surest signs of Spring are seen
My loving sprout lies eternal fast asleep.
My lamp then flickers steadily and gives
No more, yet I know somewhere my treasure lives.
[from The Lady in the Pink Hat, Candor Press,1969]