"I saw," she said, "the crescent moon arise."

"O sister, speak! I fear when on me falleth
Thine empty glance which some wild spell enthralleth!
--How chill the air blows through the open door!"
"I saw," she said, "I saw"--and spake no more.




The Miracle


THERE'S not a leaf upon the tree
To show the sap is leaping,
There's not a blade and not an ear
Escaped from winter's keeping--
But there's a something in the air
A something here, a something there,
A restless something everywhere--
A stirring in the sleeping!

A robin's sudden, thrilling note!
And see--the sky is bluer!
The world, so ancient yesterday,
To-day seems strangely newer;
All that was wearisome and stale
Has wrapped itself in rosy veil--
The wraith of winter, grown so pale
That smiling spring peeps through her!