Oh Sweet Is the Sound

O sweet is the sound O the doves clapping wings
And the sound O' the wood gate thrown open that claps
O sweet is the song o' the thrush where it sings
And sweet the old oak where the woodpecker taps
Where primrose and blue bell bloom littered around
And the ever green Ivy feathered round the green tree
Here spoke my sweet Susan there was love i' the sound
O' her voice as she stood calmly talking to me.

Her hand held fine blue bells and primroses too
Ribbed leaves of the hazels were beautifully green
Anemonies too that were weeping in dew
In the white hand O' Susan that morning were seen
How sweet was her inky hair sweetened wi' dew
How sweet was her bosom more white than the snow
Her gown it was green speckled over wi blue
O' her hair was jet black like the back of a crow.

Sweet looked the grey lichen upon the green oak
The violets looked rich by each root mossy green
And the raven croaked loud as a rustic had spoke
Here Susan all day wi' her lover would lean
Agen the white bark O' the oak to admire
Green mosses and wild flowers spread round at her feet
Her eyes were as bright as the suns liquid fire
And the greenwoodlands still in her absence seems sweet.
Rate this poem: 


No reviews yet.