Spring

Once more the lark with song and speed

Cleaves through the dawn, his hurried bars^;

Fall, like the flute of Ganymede

Twirling and whistling from the stars.

The primrose and the daffodil

Surprise the valleys, and wild thyme

Is sweet on every little hill,

When lambs come down at folding time.

In every wild place now is heard

The magpie's noisy house, and through

The mingled tunes of many a bird

The ruffled wood-dove's gentle coo.

Sweet by the river's noisy brink

The water-lily bursts her crown,

The kingfisher comes down to drink

Like rainbow jewels falling down.

And when the blue and grey entwine

The daisy shuts her golden eye,

And peace wraps all those hills of mine

Safe in my dearest memory.

This poem taken from "Last Songs" by Francis Ledwidge, Published by Herbert Jenkins, London 1918 [page 58-59]Poem Dated: France March 8th 1917Words and spelling verified JSNOTEGanymede == A Trojan boy of great beauty whom Zeus carried away to be his lover and to be cupbearer to the gods