Against the bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song
Newsletter
The birds, the fountains & the Ocean hold
Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green,
Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes
“Which seed shall prosper thou shalt never know.”
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
Gold as an infant’s humming dream,
Stamped with its timeless, tropic blush,
The steady sun stands in the air
