Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone

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Not Meagre, Latent Boughs Alone

Not meagre, latent boughs alone, O songs! (scaly and bare, like eagles’ talons,)

But haply for some sunny day (who knows?) some future spring, some summer⁠—bursting forth,

To verdant leaves, or sheltering shade⁠—to nourishing fruit,

Apples and grapes⁠—the stalwart limbs of trees emerging⁠—the fresh, free, open air,

And love and faith, like scented roses blooming.