Vernal Equinox
The scent of hyacinths, like a pale mist, lies between me and my book ; And the South Wind, washing through the room, Makes the candles quiver. My nerves sting at a spatter of rain on the shutter. And I am uneasy with the thrusting of green shoots Outside, in the night. Why are you not here to overpower me with your tense and urgent love ?
Amy Lowell