Desire In Spring

I love the cradle-songs the mothers sing

In lonely places when the twilight drops,

The slow, endearing melodies that bring

Sleep to the weeping lids; and, when she stops,

I love the roadside birds upon the tops

Of dusty hedges in a world of Spring.

And when the sunny rain drips from the edge

Of mid-day wind, and meadows lean one way,

And a long whisper passes thro' the sedge,

Beside the broken water let me stay,

While these old airs upon my memory play,

And silent changes colour up the hedge.