University of Virginia Library


111

SPRING

I

Over hill and dale and fen
Winds adust and roving strum
Broken music now and then
Out of hedges, lately dumb,
Snow enshrouded; for again,
Here and now the Spring is come.
Hungry cold no more shall irk
Beast or bird on hill or lea;
Rivers in the meadows lurk,
Whispering on the flowers to be;

112

Rustics sing about their work;
Spring is come across the sea.
Pink and emerald buds adorn
Squares and gardens up and down;
Madge, quite early in the morn,
Gads about in her new gown;
Daisies in the streets are born;
Spring is come into the town.

II

Certain, it is not wholly wrong
To hope that yet the skies may ring
With the due praises that belong
To April over all the Spring:
If one could only make a song
The birds would wish to sing.

113

The beggar starts his pilgrimage;
And kings their tassel-gentles fly;
The labourer earns a long day's wage;
The knight, a star of errantry,
With some lost princess for a page
Strays about Arcady.
Now fetching water in the dusk
The maidens linger by the wells;
The ploughmen cast their homespun husk,
And, while old Tuck his chaplet tells,
Themselves in spangled fustian busk,
And garters girt with bells.
Maid Marian's kirtle, somewhat old,
A welt of red must now enhance;
Oho! ho ho! in silk and gold
The gallant hobby horse shall prance;

114

Sing hey, for Robin Hood the bold;
Heigh ho, the morris-dance!
Oh foolish fancy, feebly strong!
To England shall we ever bring
The old mirth back? Yes, yes; nor long
It shall be till that greater Spring;
And some one yet may make a song
The birds would like to sing.

III

Foxes peeped from out their dens;
Day grew pale and olden;
Blackbirds, willow-warblers, wrens
Staunched their voices golden.
High, oh high, from the opal sky,
Shouting against the dark,
‘Why, why, why must the day go by?’
Fell a passionate lark.

115

But the cuckoos beat their brazen gongs,
Sounding, sounding, so;
And the nightingales poured in starry songs
A galaxy below.
Slowly tolling, the vesper bell
Ushered the shadowy night:
Down-a-down in a hawthorn dell
A boy and a girl and love's delight.

IV

By lichened tree and mossy plinth
Like living flames of purple fire,
Flooding the wood, the hyacinth
Uprears its heavy-scented spire.
The redstart shakes its crimson plume,
Singing alone till evening's fall

116

Beside the pied and homely bloom
Of wallflower on the crumbling wall.
Now dandelions light the way,
Expecting summer's near approach;
And, bearing lanterns night and day,
The great marsh-marigolds keep watch.