Uploaded on March 28, 2012
Into the scented woods we’ll go,
And see the blackthorn swim in snow.
High above, in the budding leaves,
A brooding dove awakes and grieves;
The glades with mingled music stir,
And wildly laughs the woodpecker.
When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze,
There are the twisted hawthorne trees
Thick-set with buds, as clear and pale
As golden water or green hail—
As if a storm of rain had stood
Enchanted in the thorny wood,
And, hearing fairy voices call,
Hang poised, forgetting how to fall.
—Mary Webb
Favorite Poems Old and New
edited by Helen Ferris
03.28.2024: I love the springtime flowering of trees.