Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/54

 THOUGHTS AT THE TRYSTING STILE

, May, and hang a white flag on each thorn,

Make truce with earth and heaven; the April child

Now hides her sulky face deep in the morn

Of your new flowers by the water wild

And in the ripples of the rising grass,

And rushes bent to let the south wind pass

On with her tumult of swift nomad wings,

And broken domes of downy dandelion.

Only in spasms now the blackbird sings.

The hour is all a-dream.

Nets of woodbine

Throw woven shadows over dreaming flowers, 48