Poems (Tynan)/Spring Longing

by Katharine Tynan

SPRING LONGING

Often I wish that I might be,
 This gay and golden weather,
Among my father's fields, ah, me!
 And he and I together.

Below the mountains, fair and dim,
 My father's fields are spreading.
I'd rather tread the sward with him
 Than I would dance at a wedding.

O green and fresh your English sod
 With daisies sprinkled over;
But greener far were the fields I trod,
 And the honeyed Irish clover.

O, well your skylark cleaves the blue
 To bid the sun good-morrow;
He has not the bonny song I knew
 High over an Irish furrow.

And often, often, Fm longing still,
 This gay and golden weather,
For my father's face by an Irish hill,
 And he and I together.