Friday, April 03, 2009


Oh, to be in England
Now that April’s there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now!
Bugger Browning, I'm off to Greece.

Light posting ahoy!


Anton Deque said...

Have a lovely time Peter. Me, I like Spring here.

Bwca Brownie said...

this sceptr'd isle - this England.

That is a lovely poem, and all Australians my age can recite the riposte it inspired from Dorothea McKellar ...
I love a sunburnt country.
A land of sweeping plains, of rugged mountain ranges ...
of droughts.
and flooding rains.

I love her far-horizons.
I love her jewelled sea.
Her beauty and her terror -
the wide, brown land for me.