The speaker has been lying still and feeling lame, unable to move, until spring bends down to him like a caring figure and wakes him with flute and lute music. Her voice is as sweet and rich as long-stored wine, and that single touch changes everything. Suddenly he leaps up like a frightened deer and follows her over hills and hollows toward the crimson dawn. It is a poem about being pulled out of stillness and despair by warmth, beauty, and the promise of new life. The speaker feels awakened, eager, and almost wild with energy. The mood is joyful and urgent, full of motion and color, as if the world itself has called him back into living.
The Touch — Summary
Am no longer lame since Spring Stooped to me where I lay, And charmed with flute and silver lute My laggard limbs to play. Her voice is sweet as long-stored wine; I leap like a hounded fawn; I rise and follow over hill and hollow To the flush of the crimson dawn!