On a Lane in Spring
“A little lane—the brook runs close beside,
And spangles in the sunshine, while the fish glide swiftly by;
And hedges leafing with the green springtide;
From out their greenery the old birds fly,
And chirp and whistle in the morning sun;
The pilewort glitter ‘neath the pale blue sky,
The little robin has its nest begun
The grass green linnets round the bushes fly.
How mild the spring comes in! The daisy buds
Lift up their golden blossoms to the sky.
How lovely are the pingles in the woods!
Here a beetle runs—and there a fly
Rests on the arum leaf in bottle-green,
And all the spring in this sweet lane is seen.”
John Clare (1793-1864)
