Spring Song by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Hark, I hear a robin calling!
List, the wind is from the south!
And the orchard-bloom is falling
Sweet as kisses on the mouth.
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In the dreamy vale of beeches
Fair and faint is woven mist,
And the river's orient reaches
Are the palest amethyst.
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Every limpid brook is singing
Of the lure of April days;
Every piney glen is ringing
With the maddest roundelays.
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Come and let us seek together
Springtime lore of daffodils,
Giving to the golden weather
Greeting on the sun-warm hills.
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Ours shall be the moonrise stealing
Through the birches ivory-white;
Ours shall be the mystic healing
Of the velvet-footed night.
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Ours shall be the gypsy winding
Of the path with violets blue,
Ours at last the wizard finding
Of the land where dreams come true.
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Comments

  1. As usual, I am enjoying the poem you chose to go with your pictures. Everything looks like Spring and I enjoyed both picture and prose.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Traci, you have a talent for putting words and pictures together...so lovely!

    Love, Tina :)

    ReplyDelete

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