Monday, April 06, 2015


And slow comes the sunny elven bride
The world is not dressed for spring
Morning robed bare in misty layers
Wefts of night linking slender saplings
But in robes of gold and royal blue
Enfolded about in green elven cloak
She enters radiant as the first morning
To sing to us of her wondrous growth
Even if spring, she is awakening late