A Birthday:-and Now A Day That Rose

When Sparrows Build And The Leaves Break Forth My Old Sorrow Wakes And Cries.

And Bitter Waxed The Fray; Brother With Brother Spake No Word When They Met In The Way.

Such A Slender Moon, Going Up And Up, Waxing So Fast From Night To Night, And Swelling Like An Orange Flower-bud, Bright, Fated, Methought, To Round As To A Golden Cup, And Hold To My Two Lips Life's Best Of Wine.

And The Guelder Rose In A Great Stillness Dropped, And Ever Dropped, Her Wealth About Her Feet.

Crowds Of Bees Are Giddy With Clover Crowds Of Grasshoppers Skip At Our Feet, Crowds Of Larks At Their Matins Hang Over, Thanking The Lord For A Life So Sweet.