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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  George O’Neil

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Marvel

George O’Neil

From “Wings of Spring”

UP on the hill where trees were bare

I saw her go the first spring dawn.

The thrushes came while she was there

And sang when she had gone.

I looked at noon, and saw how light

Had crept into the apple row.

“The hill,” I said, “will soon be white

With April apple snow.”

So I was sure that I had learned

Why thrushes sang where she went by—

Yet on the day that she returned

The leaves began to die.