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Nothing is so beautiful as spring
When weeds in wheels
Shoot long and lovely and lush
Thrushes 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 pear tree leaves and blooms
They brush the descending blue
That blue is all in a rush with richness
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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
For thou shalt grain thyself
Though thou art good, thou shalt not
Can't get what he'll take
With craving haste back to home
Where then the pooráis a destitute child
Thank you.
Thank you.