National Poetry Month

[mojosmom]

Now April has come, by Geoffrey Dearmer (1893-1996):

Now April has come, The country grows sweet here,
The chiff-chaff and wheatear, Behold, from the land of ripe oranges come!
And cherry and plum, With white blossom gleaming, The hillsides are seaming.
Too long have been dumb The woods and the wold
With buttercups blest, The lark builds her nest In green and in gold.
There’s cover for all birds, For large birds and small birds, Where furled leaved unfold.
She comes like a bride In front of the tide Of emerald mist.
No keen weather stays her; No bird disobeys her; No bud can resist.

A touch of her wand The buds rise to meet her, And birds’ eyes all greet her
Why even the garrulous ducks on the pond See signs of her wand!
As if the Magician Sent ducks on a mission With news from Beyond,
With tidings which they Through natural art Feel bound to impart!
But April and May Themselves are their voices, And no bird rejoices Superbly as they.
They come like a bride In front of the tide Of emerald mist.
No keen weather stays them; No bird disobeys them; No bud can resist.

Comments

[islandmomma.livejournal.com]

I didn't know it was National Poetry Month (well, it isn't here, but since a large part of my heart is over there I will adopt it as mine too).

I am so looking forward to people posting poetry again! Especially if it's something I didn't know, like this one. There are two times I miss the Northern climate. One is April (the other is Fall)!