Page:Reuben and other poems.pdf/20

 A morn of early March. The keen sweet air, All of a-startle with the eager, wild, Sudden exhilaration of the spring, Ran riot in the blood. The glad young sun Clear-ey’d, adown his steep blue paths of Heaven Sprang laughing; in the dimples of the down He nestled, ran along the twinkling grass, Woo’d to faint smiles the wistful earth, and kiss’d The ready waves into a world of glee. The larch boughs in the spinney show’d a blush Of coming verdure and smelt fresh of spring. Warmth lay along the village; young green grass Was springing ’neath the old grey churchyard wall, And light sat reigning in the bare elm-tops. Greetings on all sides met them, and the life Came back to Mercy’s eye, to her wan cheek The colour came, responding to a world So glad and kind; and ready as of old Her smiles return’d the laughter in the eyes Of children, skipping schoolward, unabash’d Even by Reuben, this delightful day. Beyond the street young barley waved, the air Came softer, over leagues of gentle land— No more the wide starv’d russet, bur rich brown, Pure yellow of the charlock, purple, fawn, Emerald, and tender tints innumerable, In rounding violet vapour at the last Melting towards Heaven’s azure. Larks in the blue, Lambs in the green fields lent a voice to joy; Everything in this opening world with life,