 | Gathered poems of Ernest Myers |  |
68
A COMMON IN KENT
Amid the heather dry and dark
The Spring-time throws her magic spark:
The gorse-flower's bursting blooms unfold
A thousand isles of glowing gold;
Up through his winter wrack outworn
Leaps into life the bracken's horn;
The snowy birch-stems hardly seen
Shine through their sunlit garb of green;
The bronze-hued oak-leaves haste to follow,
With welcome to the homing swallow:
On silent wing the swallows sweep,
They hunt and play, they build and sleep;
The lark that hailed the hope of spring
Still keeps his joyous carolling;
While a new voice of richer note
Pours nightly from the impassioned throat.
The Spring-time throws her magic spark:
The gorse-flower's bursting blooms unfold
A thousand isles of glowing gold;
Up through his winter wrack outworn
Leaps into life the bracken's horn;
The snowy birch-stems hardly seen
Shine through their sunlit garb of green;
The bronze-hued oak-leaves haste to follow,
With welcome to the homing swallow:
On silent wing the swallows sweep,
They hunt and play, they build and sleep;
The lark that hailed the hope of spring
Still keeps his joyous carolling;
69
Pours nightly from the impassioned throat.
So through the fairy forest ground
The seasons run their lovely round.
The wilding fruit-trees bloom their day,
The starry splendour of the may:
The peerless wild-rose petals breathe
Their fragrance to the rugged heath;
Till last the sombre heather swells
To August pomp of purple bells.
The seasons run their lovely round.
The wilding fruit-trees bloom their day,
The starry splendour of the may:
The peerless wild-rose petals breathe
Their fragrance to the rugged heath;
Till last the sombre heather swells
To August pomp of purple bells.
Then when all flowery days are done,
In Autumn's mild Elysian sun
The russet bracken lights the earth,
As bright in dying as in birth.
Nor even though deepest winter brood
Yields our fair haunt to mournful mood;
Then gleams the holly glad and free
In godlike youth immortally;
The tawny pine-stems unafraid
Rear their dark towers of changeless shade,
And by warm winds or wintry blown
Murmur their deep mysterious tone.
In Autumn's mild Elysian sun
The russet bracken lights the earth,
As bright in dying as in birth.
Nor even though deepest winter brood
Yields our fair haunt to mournful mood;
Then gleams the holly glad and free
In godlike youth immortally;
The tawny pine-stems unafraid
Rear their dark towers of changeless shade,
And by warm winds or wintry blown
Murmur their deep mysterious tone.
70
The boons of all the moorland year,
Each following each, they all are here,
Bidding the son of Northland wild
Be of his exile half beguiled,
Albeit some few leagues apart
Groans the grim city's rumbling mart.
A rarer fortune who shall find?
So near in place, so far in kind;
To dwell with woodland sight and song,
Yet free to join the workers' throng.
Each following each, they all are here,
Bidding the son of Northland wild
Be of his exile half beguiled,
Albeit some few leagues apart
Groans the grim city's rumbling mart.
A rarer fortune who shall find?
So near in place, so far in kind;
To dwell with woodland sight and song,
Yet free to join the workers' throng.
Dear Brood, for your sake Heaven hath blest
This islet of our heathery nest.
This islet of our heathery nest.
| Gathered poems of Ernest Myers | |