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Robert Laurence Binyon - May Morning
Work rating: Low

Over all the watered vale
 Shadows of the clouds trail:
 Then the sun laughs out, and sheen
 Runs like joy across the green.
 Young the leaf is, young the flower;
 Radiant the beeches tower,
 A million tremblings all as one
 Dancing forth into the sun.
 Above the sound of hidden brooks
 Birds sprinkle songs on coppice--nooks,
 Each his private happy note,
 With small bright eye and rippled throat.

 England, through whose fields I stray
 In this heavenly--coloured May,
 England, lost in histories
 Older than her oldest trees,
 With nested hamlets, each of them
 Flavoured like its ancient name;
 England, where my blood began
 And moulded childhood into man,
 Comes to--day before my eyes
 Like a new--found paradise.

 Yet I wonder not at this
 Wonder, that is half of bliss.
 I have looked into Love`s eyes
 Long, and Love has made me wise.
 As when first one face I knew
 And our lips together drew,
 Old in love, my heart to--day
 Is young as the young leaves of May.

Toller Porcorum
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