Poems (Blind)/Echoes of Spring/X.

by Mathilde Blind

X.

With thousand gaps the earth is split,
 By sunbeams wounded o'er and o'er,
My heart, it acheth bit by bit;
 Life's heat and dust have made it sore.

When wilt thou fall from clouds above,
 In silver showers, refreshing rain?
When wilt thou come, reviving love,
 With dew, and make me whole again?

A little while, big drops will slake,
 Oh, earth, thy thirst's hot agony;
But till my fevered heart doth break,
 Will solace ever come to me?