Classic Poem

Since now the spring-tide sun has come
From Yule to June through half his way,
Let larks rise high and not be dumb,
But sing aloud their lively lay,
While clouds off sink, as soft as wool,
While glare the shaking holly leaves,
And window glass below dry eaves,
And streams all bright, in pool by pool,
Come Spring's clear skies
With butterflies.

See how, along the road's dry stone,
The trampled dust now loosely lies;
But when a cloud of it is blown
By whirling wind against your eyes,
See how the busy rooks all fly
To build their nests, with stick by stick,
And wind blown elder-sprays, in thick
But leafless bushes, rattle dry.
Come Spring's clear skies,
With butterflies,
And birds on wing.

And where the snowdrop lately died
In yonder orchard's chilly sod,
Among the fallen moss, now dried,
The daffodils begin to nod;
And in the mead, where yet is found
The tawny core of last year's rick,
The milch cows linger, still and thick,
Where orts bestrew the pale green ground.
Come Spring's clear skies,
With butterflies,
And birds on wing,
To fly and sing.

There on the slope, within the copse
But lately fell'd, the ground is bare,
Though many a tree, with naked tops,
Rise lofty into sunny air;
And there now blows the celandine,
And there the primrose soon will bloom,
And there the coocoo soon may shine,
Unless she seek to sing in gloom.
Come Spring's clear skies,
With butterflies,
And birds on wing,
To fly and sing,
Come hopeful Spring.