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Christopher Brennan - "When the spring mornings grew more long . ."
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When the spring mornings grew more long 
 early I woke from dream that told 
 of dreaded parting and the cold 
 of the gray dawns when I should long 
 to see once more that clear light fall 
 upon my hands and know that near 
 the yellow meadows shone with dear 
 small flowers and hear thy laughter fall 
 — as now I long only to wake 
 once in that quiet shine of spring 
 and dream an hour the hour will bring 
 thy laughing call that bids me wake
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