With a difference —Hamlet.
Again the bloom, the northward flight,
The fount freed at its silver height,
And down the deep woods to the lowest,
The fragrant shadows scarred with light.
O inescapable joy of spring!
For thee the world shall leap and sing;
But by her darkened door thou goest
Forever as a spectral thing.
Copyright © 2025 by Louise Imogen Guiney. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on March 23, 2025, by the Academy of American Poets.
