Spring

Pale sun beams gleam
That nurtur a few flowers
Pile wort & daisey & a sprig o' green
On white thorn bushes
In the leaf strewn hedge.

These harbingers
Tell spring is coming fast
& these the schoolboy marks
& wastes an hour from school
Agen the old pasture hedge.

Cropping the daisey
& the pile wort flowers
Pleased with the Spring & all he looks upon
He opes his spelling book
& hides her blossoms there.

Shadows fall dark
Like black in the pale Sun
& lye the bleak day long
Like black stock under hedges
& bare wind rocked trees.

Tis chill but pleasant
In the hedge bottom lined
With brown seer leaves the last
Year littered there & left
Mopes the hedge Sparrow.

With trembling wings & cheeps
Its welcome to pale sunbeams
Creeping through & further on
Made of green moss
The nest & green blue eggs are seen.

All token spring & every day
Green & more green hedges & close
& every where appears
Still tis but March
But still that March is Spring.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.