Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/33

 TO MY BEST FRIEND

the wet-lipped wind that stirs the hedge

And kisses the bent flowers that drooped for rain,

That stirs the poppy on the sun-burned ledge

And like a swan dies singing, without pain.

The golden bees go buzzing down to stain

The lilies' frills, and the blue harebell rings,

And the sweet blackbird in the rainbow sings.

Deep in the meadows I would sing a song,

The shallow brook my tuning-fork, the birds

My masters; and the boughs they hop along 27