SPRING
Now the sprung grass shoots pointed
Writhing apple scything jointed
Blades becoming lay-washed;
Now high above scree-scooping cwms
A scenic skylark circlebooms:
A stone thrown sparkle flashed.
In this time the re-creation from the earth
In this time of growth and birth
When bursting forth the crested May
Ripples over flinging spray and spray
Floating on the high-banked stream;
The meadows that at sunrise seem
to take shape and to swim
Ghostlike o’er their shattered rim.
SUMMER
Watching the grass flying past,
Remembering the twig’s last
Fall onto the running stream,
Semicircling the sky, wondering
If even once the ever darting wing
Of Time awoke this dream.
Nature’s midnight daybreaks
And the dawn chorus wakes
To the overhead sun;
A willow by the silk-spun
Lake shimmers, and clocks in the day
Through its quivering eyes; May
Buds, reflowers, and in the twilight falls
To Autumn’s towering walls.
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