THE SWEETNESS OF LIFE

It fell on a day I was happy,
  And the winds, the concave sky,
The flowers and the beasts in the meadow
  Seemed happy even as I;
And I stretched my hands to the meadow,
  To the bird, the beast, the tree: 
“Why are ye all so happy?”
  I cried, and they answered me.

What sayest thou, Oh meadow,
  That stretchest so wide, so far,
That none can say how many
  Thy misty marguerites are? 
And what say ye, red roses,
  That o’er the sun-blanched wall
From your high black-shadowed trellis
  Like flame or blood-drops fall? 
    “We are born, we are reared, and we linger
      A various space and die;
    We dream, and are bright and happy,
      But we cannot answer why.”

What sayest thou, Oh shadow,
  That from the dreaming hill
All down the broadening valley
  Liest so sharp and still? 
And thou, Oh murmuring brooklet,
  Whereby in the noonday gleam
The loosestrife burns like ruby,
  And the branched asters dream? 
    “We are born, we are reared, and we linger
      A various space and die;
    We dream and are very happy,
      But we cannot answer why.”

And then of myself I questioned,
  That like a ghost the while
Stood from me and calmly answered,
  With slow and curious smile: 
“Thou art born as the flowers, and wilt linger
  Thine own short space and die;
Thou dream’st and art strangely happy,
  But thou canst not answer why.”

GOD-SPEED TO THE SNOW

March is slain; the keen winds fly;
Nothing more is thine to do;
April kisses thee good-bye;
Thou must haste and follow too;
Silent friend that guarded well
Withered things to make us glad,
Shyest friend that could not tell
Half the kindly thought he had. 
Haste thee, speed thee, O kind snow;
Down the dripping valleys go,
From the fields and gleaming meadows,
Where the slaying hours behold thee,
From the forests whose slim shadows,
Brown and leafless cannot fold thee,
Through the cedar lands aflame
With gold light that cleaves and quivers,
Songs that winter may not tame,
Drone of pines and laugh of rivers. 
May thy passing joyous be
To thy father, the great sea,
For the sun is getting stronger;
Earth hath need of thee no longer;
Go, kind snow, God-speed to thee!

APRIL IN THE HILLS

To-day the world is wide and fair
With sunny fields of lucid air,
And waters dancing everywhere;
  The snow is almost gone;
The noon is builded high with light,
And over heaven’s liquid height,
In steady fleets serene and white,
  The happy clouds go on.

The channels run, the bare earth steams,
And every hollow rings and gleams
With jetting falls and dashing streams;
  The rivers burst and fill;
The fields are full of little lakes,
And when the romping wind awakes
The water ruffles blue and shakes,
  And the pines roar on the hill.