Poem by Thomas Aird

Song the First

Hearts fail when Winter roars
On the blown seas.

Red blood for pale! Spring pours
Green gladness through her luminous trees.

The bee has wet his happy horn.
Cloudlet of the silver edges,
Past thee, up, the lark he twinkles;
How he sings, as up he twinkles!
Through the sedges,
O'er the ledges,
Bubbling, how the runnel tinkles;
Down away the runnel tinkles!
Music of the Summer morn.

Joy from grange to city run!
Lo! Autumn forges in the sun
Her spears, so rough of golden head,
To pierce the hungry soul with bread. 

1. Song the Seventh
2. To the Memory of a City Pastor
3. Fitte the First
4. My Mother's Grave
5. Song the Fourth

Print

1349 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version