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Poem by Coventry Patmore


The Year


The crocus, while the days are dark,
Unfolds its saffron sheen;
At April's touch the crudest bark
Discovers gems of green.

Then sleep the seasons, full of might;
While slowly swells the pod
And rounds the peach, and in the night
The mushroom bursts the sod.

The winter falls; the frozen rut
Is bound with silver bars;
The snowdrift heaps against the hut,
And night is pierced with stars. 



Coventry Patmore


Coventry Patmore's other poems:
  1. LТallegro
  2. The Spirit's Depths
  3. The Circles
  4. King Cophetua The First
  5. The Azalea


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