Hilda Conkling

((1910–1986) / New York)

Spring Song - Poem by Hilda Conkling

love daffodils.
I love Narcissus when he bends his head.
I can hardly keep March and spring and Sunday and daffodils
out of my rhyme of song.
do you know anything about the spring
when it comes again?
God knows about it while winter is lasting.
flowers bring him power in the spring,
and birds bring it, and children.
He is sometimes sad and alone
up there in the sky trying to keep his worlds happy.
I bring him songs
when he is in his sadness, and weary.
I tell him how I used to wander out
to study stars and the moon he made,
and flowers in the dark of the wood.
I keep reminding him about his flowers he has forgotten,
and that snowdrops are up.
What can I say to make him listen?

'God,' I say,
'Don't you care!
Nobody must be sad or sorry
in the spring-time of flowers.'


Comments about Spring Song by Hilda Conkling

  • Akham Nilabirdhwaja Singh (1/30/2016 6:43:00 AM)


    Nobody must be sad or sorry
    in the spring time of flowers-impressive write.
    (Report) Reply

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Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 30, 2016



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