TAKE HEART

by: Edna Dean Proctor (1838?-1923?)

      LL day the stormy wind has blown
      From off the dark and rainy sea;
      No bird has past the window flown,
      The only song has been the moan
      The wind made in the willow-tree.
       
      This is the summer's burial-time:
      She died when dropped the earliest leaves;
      And, cold upon her rosy prime,
      Fell direful autumn's frosty rime;
      Yet I am not as one that grieves,--
       
      For well I know o'er sunny seas
      The bluebird waits for April skies;
      And at the root of forest trees
      The May-flowers sleep in fragrant ease,
      The violets hide their azure eyes.
       
      O thou, by winds of grief o'erblown,
      Beside some golden summer's bier,--
      Take heart! Thy birds are only flown,
      Thy blossoms sleeping, tearful sown,
      To greet thee in the immortal year!

"Take Heart" is reprinted from The Little Book of American Poets: 1787-1900. Ed. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. Cambridge: Riverside Press, 1915.

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