Shadow and gleam on the Downland
Under the low Spring sky,
Shadow and gleam in my spirit—
Why?
A bird, in his nest rejoicing,
Cheers and flatters and woos:
A fresh voice flutters my fancy—
Whose?
And the humour of April frolics
And bickers in blade and bough—
O, to meet for the primal kindness
Now!
IX
The wind on the wold,
With sea-scents and sea-dreams attended,
Is wine!
The air is as gold
In elixir—it takes so the splendid
Sunshine!
O, the larks in the blue!
How the song of them glitters, and glances,
And gleams!
The old music sounds new—
And it’s O, the wild Spring, and his chances
And dreams!
There’s a lift in the blood—
O, this gracious, and thirsting, and aching
Unrest!
All life’s at the bud,
And my heart, full of April, is breaking
My breast.
X
Deep in my gathering garden
A gallant thrush has built;
And his quaverings on the stillness
Like light made song are spilt.
They gleam, they glint, they sparkle,
They glitter along the air,
Like the song of a sunbeam netted
In a tangle of red-gold hair.