A pair of poems by others and two garden pictures of my own creation — both photo and garden.
April I open wide to the portals of the Spring To welcome the procession of the flowers, With their gay banners, and the birds that sing Their song of songs from their aerial towers. I soften with my sunshine and my showers The heart of earth; with thoughts of love I glide Into the hearts of men; and with the hours Upon the Bull with wreathéd horns I ride. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-82) The Poet’s Calendar
The Days of April
On the return of April some few days Before it comes when every thing looks new And woods where primroses burn in a blaze of fire And sallows in the woods made new Seen blazeing out in blossoms not a few But bushes smothered over what a change Is turned upon their brightness passing by The very birds the pies and crows and Jays Look downward on their bloom from dark trees high And wood larks dropping from the rich blue sky Winner and whistle to their very roots Sitting beneath a canophy of gold And wood anemonies the sharp air suits Their sheltered blooms with beauties manifold Daisies burn April grass with silver flies And pilewort in the green lane blazes out Enough to burn the fingers neath the briars Where village Boys will scrat dead leaves about To look for pootys — every eye admires The lovely pictures that the spring brings out Meadows of bowing cowslips what mind tires To see them dancing in the emerald grass And trawling chrystal brook as clear as glass Laughing groaning uggling on for miles That waves the silver blades of swimming grass Upon the surface while the glad sun smiles Such are the sights the showers and sunshine bring To three or four bright days in the first of spring… John Clare (1793-1864)
©Elizabeth Anker 2021