Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/167

 MAY

leans across an orchard gate somewhere,

Bending from out the shadows to the light,

A dappled spray of blossom in her hair

Studded with dew-drops lovely from the night

She smiles to think how many hearts she'll smite

With beauty ere her robes fade from the lawn.

She hears the robin's cymbals with delight,

The skylark in the rosebush of the dawn.

For her the cowslip rings its yellow bell,

For her the violets watch with wide blue eyes.

The wandering cuckoo doth its clear name tell

Thro' the white mist of blossoms where she lies 161