 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
VILLANELLE.
THE air is white with snow-flakes clinging;
Between the gusts that come and go
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Between the gusts that come and go
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Methinks I see the primrose springing
On many a bank and hedge, although
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
On many a bank and hedge, although
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
Surely, the hands of Spring are flinging
Wood-scents to all the winds that blow:
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Wood-scents to all the winds that blow:
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Methinks I see the swallow winging
Across the woodlands sad with snow;
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
Across the woodlands sad with snow;
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
Was that the cuckoo's wood-chime swinging?
Was that the linnet fluting low?
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Was that the linnet fluting low?
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Or can it be the breeze is bringing
The breath of violets? Ah no!
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
The breath of violets? Ah no!
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
It is my lady's voice that's stringing
Its beads of gold to song; and so
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
Its beads of gold to song; and so
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
198
The violets I see upspringing
Are in my lady's eyes, I trow:
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
Are in my lady's eyes, I trow:
The air is white with snowflakes clinging.
Dear, whilst thy tender tones are ringing,
E'en though amidst the winter's woe
The air is white with snowflakes clinging,
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
E'en though amidst the winter's woe
The air is white with snowflakes clinging,
Methinks I hear the woodlark singing.
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |