Miracle Of Spring

Were I to live a thousand years I still would know that flaming thrill,
That rush of joy when first appears —the golden daffodil.

    A thousand times my heart would sing When purple irises unfold;
    Or when forsythia's branches bring Their dazzling showers of gold.

I could not see an almond tree with branches all a rosy glow
But that a tide of ecstasy would through my being flow.

Were I to see, a thousand times, blue scilla bells amid green grass,
I know I'd hear their fairy chimes as I would pass.

Were I to live a thousand years I'd never watch the nesting birds
Except through eyes bedimmed with tears, my tongue bereft of words.

Were I to weave ten thousand lays, knew I a thousand songs to sing,
I still would lack the power to praise—the miracle of Spring.