In the half-light of an April evening, someone stands alone at a window watching a flooded river rush past. This person is restless, worn down by loving too much, and troubled by the realization that love’s flame can die. The speaker watches from nearby, noticing the sigh, the robin’s song, and the faint murmur of distant voices. For a moment, everything seems suspended in a strange blend of beauty and pain. The speaker knows this image—the shadowy figure at the window, the dark maples, the silver river—will stay with him forever. The mood is wistful and tender, full of longing and gentle sadness. The spring flood mirrors the swift, unstoppable movement of feeling and time, carrying love toward some far-off sea while the memory of it remains.
Spring Floods — Summary
You stood alone In the dusky window, Watching the racing river. Touched with a vague unrest, And if tired of loving too much More troubled at heart to find That the flame of love could wither And the wonder of love could pass, You kneeled at the window-ledge And stared through the black-topped maples Where an April robin fluted,-- Stared idly out At the flood-time sweep of the river, Silver and paling gold In the ghostly April twilight.
Shadowy there in the dusk You watched with shadowy eyes The racing, sad, unreasoning Hurrying torrent of silver Seeking its far-off sea. Faintly I heard you sigh, And faintly I heard the robin's flute, And faintly from rooms remote Came a broken murmur of voices. And life, for a breath, stood bathed In a wonder crowned with pain, And immortal the moment hung; And I know that the thought of you There at the shadowy window, And the matted black of the maples, And the sunset call of a bird, And the sad wide reaches of silver, Will house in my haunted heart Till the end of Time!