Penny's Poetry Blog

  The Flute of Spring I know a shining meadow stream That winds beneath an Eastern hill, And all year long in sun or gloom Its murmur...

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  The May Magnificat May is Mary's month, and I Muse at that and wonder why:     Her feasts follow reason,     Dated due to seas...

IX Winds of May, that dance on the sea, Dancing a ring-around in glee From furrow to furrow, while overhead The foam flies up to be g...

  Phillida and Coridon In the merry month of May, In a morn by break of day, Forth I walked by the wood-side When as May was in his p...

  The Furrow How sombre slope these acres to the sea And to the breaking sun! The sun-rise deeps Of rose and crocus, whence the far da...

  The Sower A brown sad-coloured hillside, where the soil, Fresh from the frequent harrow, deep and fine, Lies bare; no break in the r...