Green triangles have come on the ground,
Green fretted things that we shall see
Grown to wild parsley soon. The hens
Are talking news excitedly.
Big dimples stay in the sparrows' fluff,
They preen with such fine energy.
The very dust's alert. His songs
The blackbird stirs from memory —
The prettiest one he knew last year
Is still a soft uncertainty.
The catkins drip like honey spilt,
The cock crows twice as frequently.
And the wind rises, tossing back
The spring. "You'll like it more," says he,
"For twisting aside, like the blackbird's song,
And vexing you with, 'Presently.'"
from Poems, 1923
[All rights reserved by the author's estate - Please do not copy]
Camilla Doyle biography