Poems (Henley)/Pastoral
XXIIPASTORAL
It's the Spring.Earth has conceived, and her bosom,Teeming with summer, is glad.
Vistas of change and adventure,Thro' the green landThe grey roads go beckoning and winding,Peopled with wains, and melodiousWith harness-bells jangling:Jangling and twangling rough rhythmsTo the slow march of the stately, great horsesWhistled and shouted along.
White fleets of cloud,Argosies heavy with fruitfulness,Sail the blue peacefully. Green flame the hedgerows.Blackbirds are bugling, and white in wet windsSway the tall poplars. Pageants of colour and fragrance,Pass the sweet meadows, and viewlessWalks the mild spirit of May,Visibly blessing the world.
O, the brilliance of blossoming orchards!O, the savour and thrill of the woods,When their leafage is stirredBy the flight of the Angel of Rain!Loud lows the steer; in the fallowsRooks are alert; and the brooksGurgle and tinkle and trill. Thro' the gloamings,Under the rare, shy stars,Boy and girl wander,Dreaming in darkness and dew.
It's the Spring.A sprightliness feeble and squalidWakes in the ward, and I sicken,Impotent, winter at heart.