letra de alice meynell - in february - ghizela rowe
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rich meanings of the prophet-spring adorn
unseen, this colourless sky of folded showers
and folded winds; no blossom in the bowers;
a poet’s face asleep in this grey morn
now in the midst of the old world forlorn
a mystic child is set in these still hours
i keep this time, even before the flowers
sacred to all the young and the unborn
to all the miles and miles of unsprung wheat
and to the spring waiting beyond the portal
and to the future of my own young art
and, among all these things, to you, my sweet
my friend, to your calm face and the immortal
child tarrying all your life-timе in your heart
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