名人诗歌|Magdalen Walks

Magdalen Walks

The little white clouds are racing^{1 over the sky，}

And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March，

The daffodil breaks under foot， and the tasselled larch²

Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning

breeze，

The odour of deep wet grass， and of brown new-furrowed earth，

The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth，

Hopping^{3 from branch to branch on the rocking trees.}

And all the woods are alive with the murmur^{4 and}

sound of Spring，

And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar，

And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire

Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst^{5 ring.}

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some

tale of love

Till it rustles^{6 with laughter and tosses its mantle7 of green，}

And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris^{8 sheen}

Of the burnished^{9 rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.}

See！ the lark^{10 starts up from his bed in the meadow}

there，

Breaking the gossamer^{11 threads and the nets of dew，}

And flashing adown the river， a flame of blue！

The kingfisher flies like an arrow， and wounds the air.