. . .A Prescription for a Spring Morning At early dawn through London you must go Until you come where long black hedgerows grow, With pink buds pearl’d, with here and there a tree,29 And gates and stiles; and watch good country folk; And scent the spicy smoke Of wither’d weeds that burn where gardens be; And in a ditch perhaps a primrose see. The rooks shall stalk the plough, larks mount the skies, Blackbirds and speckled thrushes sing aloud, Hid in the warm white cloud Mantling the thorn, and far away shall rise The milky low of cows and farm-yard cries. From windy heavens the climbing sun shall shine, And February greet you like a maid In russet cloak array’d; And you shall take her for your mistress fine, And pluck a crocus for her valentine.

John Davidson.

The Country Faith Here in the country’s heart Where the grass is green, Life is the same sweet life As it e’er hath b. . . Read More