Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Oh for a Day of Spring

Oh for a day of Spring,
A day of flowers and folly,
Of birds that pipe and sing
And boyhood’s melancholy!
I would not grudge the laughter,
The tears that followed after.
 
Oh for a day of youth,
A day of strength and passion,
Of words that told the truth
And deeds the truth would fashion!
I would not leave untasted
One glory while it lasted.
 
Oh for a day of days,
A day with you and pleasure,
Of love in all its ways
And life in all its measure!
Win me that day from sorrow,
And let me die to—morrow.
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