A Touch Of Nature
An illustrated poem from the past
My mother suggested I share this poem with you.
When first the crocus thrusts its point of gold
Up through the still snow-drifted garden mould,
And folded green things in dim woods unclose
Their crinkled spears, a sudden tremor goes
Into my veins and makes me kith and kin
To every wild-born thing that thrills and blows.
Sitting beside this crumbling sea-coal fire,
Here in the city's ceaseless roar and din,
Far from the brambly paths I used to know,
Far from the rustling brooks that slip and shine
Where the Neponset alders take their glow,
I share the tremulous sense of bud and briar
And inarticulate ardors of the vine.
I thought of your crocuses when I saw this poem. Love the pictures!
Thomas Bailey Aldrich was best-known in his lifetime for his volume of childhood recollections "The Story Of A Bad Boy"- which Mark Twain was firmly reacting against when he wrote about Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn.