By George Sterling

        Beyond the purple bay
The drowsy winds awaken to delay.
        Spring, a world-spirit, dips
        In pure turquoise her lips,
And blows the bubble of a cloudless day.

        Poppy and rose declare
Our kinship in the league of earth and air.
        The petals pushed apart
        Are somehow in my heart,
And the far bird sings passionately there.

        Now for awhile I blend
With all that sea and skies and land may lend,
        Accepting at its worth
        The dear mirage of earth—
Too wise to question here its aim or end.

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