A Little Lane, the brook runs
close beside
And spangles in the sunshine
while the fish glide swiftly by
And hedges leafing
with the green spring tide
From out their greenery
the old birds fly
And chirp and whistle
in the morning sun
The pilewort glitters
'neath the pale blue sky
The little robin
has its nest begun
And grass green linnets
round the bushes fly
How Mild the Spring Comes in;
the daisy buds
Lift up their golden blossoms
to the sky
How lovely are the pingles
and the woods
Here a beetle runs;
and there a fly
Rests on the Arum leaf
in bottle green
And all the Spring
in this Sweet lane is seen.
John Clare - 1793 - 1864
For my dear friend C.B. wherever you may be.
