Troubadour's Song

By George Sterling

From "Lilith"

        Ah! listen, dear!
    The burning hands of Spring
Are on the world's green girdle. Love is here,
    Long waited. So I sing.

        To sing thee soon
    A madder song than this! —
Writ in the waning of an olden moon
    To win the first-born kiss.

        Ah! yearning face,
    Too mystically fair!
Sweet, I would find thee in a hidden place,
    And trembling, loose thy hair!

        Darling, the year
    Sows flowers in thy heart!
Love, who am I to tell thee in a tear
        How beautiful thou art?
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