Poems By Arjava

TREAD lightly over the crocus flame

That„flares from the floor of March ;

Gay gold from the solemn winter came,

And frith from the war-bow arch.

Hither the bee and the butterfly

To the goblets of the sun

Wing swift and sip and joyward hie

And every shadow shun.

What alchemy from winter's mould

Has framed this miracle,

These laughing cups of spirit-gold

Sundream, springbeam full ?