April

I flood with gold the gorses, 
With rain the water-courses, 
And I restrain 
With silver rein 
The wild sea-horses. 

I am the blackbird singing, 
I am the grasses swinging; 
I am the spur 
Sets reeds astir 
And bluebells ringing. 

I quicken in their graves 
Seeds that the winter saves: 
Flags for me stay; 
The budding May 
My coming craves. 

I open all kept close, 
I quicken the red rose; 
The cloud that towers 
Big with its showers 
My message knows. 

I am the hawk that hovers. 
The wild life in the covers: 
No lark so high 
Dare soar, as I 
That sing to lovers. 

I flood with gold the gorses, 
With rain the water-courses, 
And I restrain 
With silver rein 
The wild sea-horses.