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C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Dawn of Spring

By Hugo von Hofmannsthal (1874–1929)

THERE floats the breath of spring

Through desolate trees;

Many a strange thing

Is in his breeze.

He gently lingers

Mid tears and care,

And wreathes his fingers

In dishevelled hair.

He lavishly spreads

Acacia bloom

And cools the heads

That burn in the gloom.

Through the sighing

Desolate trees

Send the breeze

Shadows flying,

And the scent

Is wafted light

From whence he came

Since yesternight.

Faces smiling

He has caressed,

And waked the beguiling

Meads in his quest.

He sped through the flute

As a sob and a cry,

And the red dawn was mute

As he flitted by.

In silence he came

Through the murmuring hall,

And blew to its fall

The slender flame.