When the red-bud blooms in the spring
And then, as of old, for sheer rapture
My heart will sing.
The red-bud rosily blossomed
In valley and hill and plain,
And yet my heart could not banish
Its sense of pain.
__May Frink Converse
Contemporary Kansas Poetry
Helen Rhoda Hoopes
(Kansas City: Joseph D. Havens Company. 1927)