Читать книгу Come Hither: A Collection of Rhymes and Poems for the Young of All Ages онлайн

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And thresh, and ply;

And hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,

And meadow rivulets overflow,

And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,

And rooks in families homeward go,

And so do I.

Thomas Hardy

12

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 hawthorn 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,

Hung poised, forgetting how to fall.

Mary Webb

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Now the bright morning Star, Dayes harbinger,

Comes dancing from the East, and leads with her

The Flowry May, who from her green lap throws

The yellow Cowslip and the pale Primrose.

Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire

Mirth and youth and young desire,

Woods and Groves, are of thy dressing,