Explore "To One Poem in a Silent Time" by Alice Meynell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Who looked for thee, thou little song of mine?
This winter of a silent poet's heart
Is suddenly sweet with thee. But what thou art,
Mid-winter flower, I would I could divine.
Art thou a last one, orphan of thy line?
Did the dead summer's last warmth foster thee?
Or is Spring folded up unguessed in me,
And stirring out of sight, -- and thou the sign?
Where shall I look -- backwards or to the morrow / For others of thy fragrance, secret child? / Who knows if last things or if first things claim thee?
-- Whether thou be the last smile of my sorrow, / Or else a joy too sweet, a joy too wild.
How, my December violet, shall I name thee?