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Nothing is so
beautiful as spring -
When weeds, in wheels, shoot
long and lovely and lush;
Thrush's eggs look little
low heavens, and thrush
Through the echoing timber
does so rinse and wring
The ear, it strikes like
lightnings to hear him sing;
The glassy peartree
leaves and blooms, they brush
The descending blue;
that blue is all in a rush
With richness; the racing
lambs too have fair their fling.
What is all this
juice and all this joy?
A strain of the earth's sweet
being in the beginning
In Eden garden. -Have, get,
before it cloy,
Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and
sour with sinning,
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl
and boy,
Most, O maid's child, thy choice and worthy
the winning.
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