"Ruins in the Campagna di Roma, Morning" by Thomas ColeAn Ode: ‘Spring Mourning’ by Daniel R. Leach The Society April 28, 2021 Beauty, Poetry 5 Comments . The first soft days of Springtime greet my eyes __Like a young girl’s face smiling fresh and clean, The sunlight falls, like hope, from cloudless skies __Upon a budding world, all tender green; But sweet, sad odors drift upon the breeze, __That seem to carry my soul far away, ____Of oozing sap and scarce remembered flowers, The soft, fresh moss upon the aged trees, __And thawing humus of the past’s decay— ____The buried hopes of near forgotten hours. How strange and distant is that memory __Of one with whom a day like this I shared, When Nature’s spirits all conspired with me __To germinate and bloom the love I dared; How I thanked God, and wondered at the chance, __Or holy fate, that put us there, alone ____Beneath a tree, trapped by a sudden rain— The tender words, the brief, yet soulful glance, __And all was possible! Yet she is gone ____And but the echoes of that day remain. I saw, in later Springs, dark shadows creep __Like ghosts, to haunt my once bright, carefree day; The death of loved ones, in whose graves now sleep __The childlike joy that in the Spring should play. These flowers are forever sad, yet dear, __For they are like the ones that we loved so— ____It is as if from death itself they bloom, With fragrance like a body, breathing near, __Whispering secrets only the dead know, ____Of untold beauties that survive the tomb. But oh, it is when I look in your eyes, __Those deep pools that speak of much suffering, And sense a kindred soul within them lies, __Like mine, forever banished from the Spring, That I am most from innocence estranged; __For we autumnal souls forever bear ____The knowledge of our own mortality. Yet though to darker hues our day has changed, __The beauty of this moment, you now wear ____Like lingering, golden leaves upon the tree. So let us spend the day in flowery fields, __And teach the Spring a richer, wiser joy— That from each moment a true pleasure yields, __When fleeting time and precious hearts alloy; Then sing to me of all that you hold dear __In earth and sun, or budding trees, or sound ____Of unseen birds singing in the bright sky— Perhaps to share a melancholy tear __Upon some long-lost treasure found, ____Or laugh, as if the day would never die. . . Daniel R. Leach is a poet living in Houston, Texas. He has spent much of his life fighting for the ideals of classical culture and poetry. His volume of poetry, compiling over 20 years of composition, is entitled “Voices on the Wind.” NOTE TO READERS: If you enjoyed this poem or other content, please consider making a donation to the Society of Classical Poets. NOTE TO POETS: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. CODEC News:Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 5 Responses BRIAN YAPKO April 28, 2021 Daniel, this is a beautiful, sad, wistful ode. There are so many lovely images which ache. I especially love “we autumnal souls forever bear/The knowledge of our own mortality.” Thank you for sharing this heartfelt poem which reminds me so vividly that life is a gift never to be taken for granted. Reply Cheryl Corey April 29, 2021 I love the last two stanzas. My favorite lines in stanza four are “Like mine, forever banished from the Spring, That I am most from innocence estranged;” and the last stanza in its entirety. The accompanying photo of the Cole painting is very appropriate; but then, the photos on this website are always the best. P.S. Thank you for fighting the good fight for classical poetry! Reply Cheryl Corey April 29, 2021 Is your volume of poetry available anywhere besides Amazon? Reply Dan Leach April 29, 2021 Thank you, Cheryl. And no, it’s not. Reply David Bellemare Gosselin April 30, 2021 THIS is a real Ode! Find me another 21st century poet that can write an Ode of this quality. I have not seen any other. The way everything comes together with such a richness of irony in the last line is amazing. One literally feels the soul being moved. It’s so beautiful that it almost hurts. Great stuff Daniel. Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.