 | The North Star and Other Poems |  |
50
MAY MORNING
Over all the watered vale
Shadows of the clouds trail:
Then the sun laughs out, and sheen
Runs like joy across the green.
Young the leaf is, young the flower;
Radiant the beeches tower,
A million tremblings all as one
Dancing forth into the sun.
Above the sound of hidden brooks
Birds sprinkle songs on coppice-nooks,
Each his private happy note,
With small bright eye and rippled throat.
Shadows of the clouds trail:
Then the sun laughs out, and sheen
Runs like joy across the green.
Young the leaf is, young the flower;
Radiant the beeches tower,
A million tremblings all as one
Dancing forth into the sun.
Above the sound of hidden brooks
Birds sprinkle songs on coppice-nooks,
Each his private happy note,
With small bright eye and rippled throat.
England, through whose fields I stray
In this heavenly-coloured May,
England, lost in histories
Older than her oldest trees,
With nested hamlets, each of them
Flavoured like its ancient name;
England, where my blood began
And moulded childhood into man,
Comes to-day before my eyes
Like a new-found paradise.
In this heavenly-coloured May,
England, lost in histories
Older than her oldest trees,
With nested hamlets, each of them
Flavoured like its ancient name;
England, where my blood began
And moulded childhood into man,
Comes to-day before my eyes
Like a new-found paradise.
Yet I wonder not at this
Wonder, that is half of bliss.
I have looked into Love's eyes
Long, and Love has made me wise.
As when first one face I knew
And our lips together drew,
Old in love, my heart to-day
Is young as the young leaves of May.
Wonder, that is half of bliss.
I have looked into Love's eyes
Long, and Love has made me wise.
As when first one face I knew
And our lips together drew,
Old in love, my heart to-day
Is young as the young leaves of May.
Toller Porcorum
| The North Star and Other Poems | |