At the Cross Roads

There I halted. Further down the hollow

Stood the township, where my errand lay.

Firm my purpose, till a voice cried ( Follow!

Come this way — I tell you — come this way! )

Silence, Thrush! You know I think of buying

A Spring-tide hat; my frock is worn and old.

So to the shops I go. What's that you're crying?

( Here! Come here! And gather primrose gold. )

Well, yes. Some day I will; but time is going.

I haste to purchase silks and satins fair.

I'm all in rags. ( The Lady's Smock is showing

Up yonder, in the little coppice there. )

And wood anemones spread out their laces;

Each celandine has donned a silken gown;

The violets are lifting shy sweet faces.

( And there's a chiff-chaff, soft, and slim, and brown. )

But what about my hat? ( The bees are humming. )

And my new frock? ( The hawthorn's budding free!

Sweet! Oh, so sweet! ) Well, have your way. I'm coming!

And who's to blame for that? ( Why, me!

Me! Me! )