<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117256" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Débutante</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day dawned not upon the earth as other days have done:<br>A throng of little virgin clouds stood waiting for the sun,<br>Till the herald-winds aligned them, and they blushed, and stood aside,<br>As the marshals of the morning flung the eastern portals wide.<br>So Nature lit her playhouse for the play that May begins,<br>And the twigs of honeysuckle sawed like little violins:<br>In the dawn there dwelt a whisper of a presence that was new,<br>For the slender Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As yet I could not see her, and the stage was wide and bare;<br>As yet the Winter's chorus echoed faintly on the air<br>With a dying wail of tempest, and of dry and tortured trees,<br>But a promise of new music lent enchantment to the breeze.<br>In the scene's secluded corners lay the snow-drifts, still secure;<br>But the murmur of their melting sang another overture<br>Than the brooks of brown November, and I listened, and I knew<br>That blue-eyed Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The world was all attention, and the hemlocks stood, a-row,<br>Ushers, never changing costume through the Seasons’ wonder-show,<br>While the day, below the hillside, tried her colors, one by one,<br>On the clouds experimenting, till the coming of the sun.<br>In the vines about my window, where the sparrows all convene,<br>They were practising the chorus that should usher in the Queen,<br>And the sod-imprisoned flowers craved the word to shoulder through:<br>Green-girdled Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She shall enter to the clarion of the crystal-ringing brooks,<br>She shall tread on frail arbutus in the moist and mossy nooks;<br>She shall touch the bleak drop-curtain of the Winter with her wand<br>Till it lifts, and shows the wonder of the apple blooms beyond!<br>Yet with all her golden sunlight, and her twilights of perfume,<br>Yet with all the mystic splendor of her nights of starlit gloom,<br>She shall bring no sweeter moment than this one in which I knew<br>That laughing Spring was at the wing, and waiting for her cue!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Guy+Wetmore+Carryl">Guy Wetmore Carryl</a> from <i>The Garden of Years and Other Poems</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=117256" data-title="The Débutante de Guy Wetmore Carryl" data-description="To-day dawned not upon the earth as other days have done:/A throng of little virgin clouds stood waiting for the sun,/Till the herald-winds aligned them, and they blushed, and stood aside,/As the marshals of the morning flung the eastern portals w..."></div> </div> </div>

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