Spring Morning / Frances Cornford

Spring Morning

Now the moisty wood discloses
Wrinkled leaves of primèroses,
While the birds, they flute and sing:
Build your nests, for here is Spring.

All about the open hills
Daises shew their peasant frills,
Washed and white and newly spun
For a festival of sun.

Like a blossom from the sky,
Drops a yellow butterfly.
Dancing down the hedges grey
Snow-bestrewn till yesterday.

Squirrels skipping up the trees
Smell how Spring is in the breeze,
While the birds, they flute and sing:
Build your nests, for here is Spring.

~~
Frances Cornford (1886-1960)
from Spring Morning, 1923

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Frances Cornford biography

Jonathan Billinger, Spring Morning, April 2013. CC BY-SA 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.

The Poplar in August / Frances Cornford

The Poplar in August

Poplar, poplar, in the heat,
Shivering and bending,
Have you shade for dusty feet,
Poplar, poplar, in the heat?
Shade is cool and sleep is sweet,

And roads unending.
Poplar, poplar, in the heat,
Shivering and bending.

~~
Frances Cornford (1886-1960)
From Poems, 1910

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Frances Cornford biography

Autumn Evening / Frances Cornford

Autumn Evening

The shadows flickering, the daylight dying,
And I upon the old red sofa lying,
The great brown shadows leaping up the wall,
The sparrows twittering; and that is all.

I thought to send my soul to far-off lands,
Where fairies scamper on the windy sands,
Or where the autumn rain comes drumming down
On huddled roofs in an enchanted town.

But O, my sleepy soul, it will not roam,
It is too happy and too warm at home:
With just the shadows leaping up the wall,
The sparrows twittering; and that is all.

~~~
Frances Cornford (1886-1960)
from Spring Morning, 1915

[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]

Frances Cornford biography.