Summary

Portrait of Laurence Binyon Laurence Binyon Primavera: Poems by Four Authors

Wreathed with vine-leaves, shouting, trampling onwards,
With toss'd timbrel and loud tambourine.
Alas! the disenchanting years have roll'd
On hearts and minds becoming cold:
Mirth is gone from us; and the world is old.
O bright new-comer, fill'd with thoughts of joy,
Joy to be thine amid these pleasant plains,
Know'st thou not, child, what surely coming pains
Await thee, for that eager heart's annoy?
Misunderstanding, disappointment, tears,
Wrong'd love, spoil'd hope, mistrust and ageing fears,
Eternal longing for one perfect friend,
And unavailing wishes without end?
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Laurence Binyon Laurence Binyon Primavera: Poems by Four Authors

As a sad Muse in the melodious choir
Hushes her voice, to catch the happier voices by her.
Deep-shaded will I lie, and deeper yet
In night, where not a leaf its neighbour knows;
Forget the shining of the stars, forget
The vernal visitation of the rose;
And, far from all delights, prepare my heart's repose.
Strive how I may, I cannot slumber so:
Still burns that sleepless beauty on the mind;
Still insupportable those visions glow;
And hark! my spirit's aspirations find
An answer in the leaves, a warning on the wind.
Source: Gutenberg

Portrait of Laurence Binyon Laurence Binyon Primavera: Poems by Four Authors

Stephen Phillips.
[30]
hou who hast follow'd far with eyes of love
The shy and virgin sights of Spring to-day,
Sad soul, what dost thou in this happy grove?
Hast thou no pipe to touch, no strain to play,
Where Nature smiles so fair and seems to ask a lay?
Ah! she needs none! she is too beautiful.
How should I sing her? for my heart would tire,
Seeking a lovelier verse each time to cull,
In striving still to pitch my music higher:
Lovelier than any muse is she who gives the fire!
Source: Gutenberg

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