Explore "Voices" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
When blood-root blooms and trillium flowers / Unclasp their stars to sun and rain, / My heart strikes hands with winds and showers / And wanders in the woods again.
O urging impulse, born of spring, / That makes glad April of my soul, / No bird, however wild of wing, / Is more impatient of control.
Impetuous of pulse it beats / Within my blood and bears me hence; / Above the housetops and the streets / I hear its happy eloquence.
It tells me all that I would know, / Of birds and buds, of blooms and bees; / I seem to _hear_ the blossoms blow, / And leaves unfolding on the trees.
I seem to hear the blue-bells ring / Faint purple peals of fragrance; and / The honey-throated poppies fling / Their golden laughter o'er the land.
It calls to me; it sings to me; / I hear its far voice night and day; / I can not choose but go when tree / And flower clamor, "Come, away! "