| In England O to be in England Now that April's there And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bow In England --- now!! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops --- at the bent spray's edge --- That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over Lest you should think he could never recapture The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower --- Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! Robert Browning 1812 - 1889 |
| I live abroad, and I'm happy enough here, but this poem never fails to bring back thoughts of Southern England at the best time of year, and, makes me miss it - miss it more than a little bit... |
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