As the bulbs of spring do wait alone, in darkness;
Tiny possibilities, curled against the cold;
For touch of warmth, reminder of Spring's faithfulness,
So do I wait, for the Sun's touch of tender gold.
Ah, for a single touch, to warm the heart, to loose
from cold imprisonment each root and leaf and bloom!
Caress of light, come! From each tender shoot educe
the waiting blossoms, heady with Love's sweet perfume.
Do this, fair Sun - extend your hand but once in love
And I am yours in limb and leaf and soul and flower -
'Til, with the life of Summer gone, at last you move
To Autumn's sky, and I succumb to Winter's pow'r.
Even as leaves fade and dry and burn, we will not grieve;
Alone in darkness I will wait, again your love receive.