Home Thoughts from abroad

Oh to be in England
Now that April's there,
And whoever wakes to England
Sees, some morning unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the Elm tree bowl are in tiny leaf ,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England ---now!!

And after April when May follows,
And whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops---at the bent spray's edge---
That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over
Least you should think he never could recapture
That first fine careless rapture!
And though the mornings rough with hoary due
All will be gay when nontide wakes anew
The buttercups, that little children's dower
--Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!

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