New Spring

by James McAuley  

From book: Collected Poems 1936–1970

The slender willow lashes 

Are faintly touched with green; 

A moorhen calls, and splashes 

Among the reeds unseen.

In time past unembittered 

We walked along this bank; 

I threw flat stones that skittered 

And bounced before they sank.

Still full of clouds and willows 

The water spreads its gleam; 

A dabchick dives; the swallows 

Circle above the stream.

If now our thoughts move sadly,

It's not that we grow old, 

But that we grow old badly, 

Shamed at the heart, and cold.

Undimmed the fount of being 

With freshness overflows; 

Beasts drink their life unseeing: 

The wise heart drinks and knows.