Classic and Contemporary Poetry
SPRINGTIME IN COOKHAM DEAN, by CECIL EDRIC MORNINGTON ROBERTS Poet's Biography First Line: How marvellous and fair a thing Last Line: Where spring performs her miracle. Subject(s): Cookham Dean, England; Spring | ||||||||
HOW marvellous and fair a thing It is to see an English spring, He cannot know who has not seen The cherry trees at Cookham Dean, Who has not seen the blossom lie Like snowdrifts 'gainst a cloudless sky And found the beauty of the way Through woodlands odorous with may; It is a rare, a holy sight To see the hills with blossom white, To feel the air about one flowing With the silent rapture growing In the hidden heart of things That yearn, that flower, put forth wings And show their splendors one by one Beneath the all-rejoicing sun. Perhaps the joy of all the earth Moved through us on that day of mirth When in the morning air we trod Hills sacred to the woodland god, And heard behind us as we ran The laughter of a hidden Pan, Who dropped his flute because he heard The artless cadence of a bird; And we, who love the southern sky, One moment ceased to wonder why A poet in his exile cried To see an English spring, and sighed Because a chaffinch from the bough Sings and shakes the blossom now. For who would sigh for southern skies Who once had seen the paradise Of this new Eden where the flowers Drench the woods with odorous showers, And give delight till the sense sickens With the rapture that it quickens? This heaven where petals fall as stars, This paradise where beauty bars Its petaled, white, inviolable portals 'Gainst the clamoring of mortals, And from green altars in dim shrines Calls to the driven soul that pines For leafy solitude, and prayer That whispers through the branches there. When Spring, in her ascension, fills The chalice of the sacred hills With blossoms like the driven snow, And longing takes the heart, then go On pilgrimage to Cookham Dean And through dim aisles of shadowed green, Diapered with the light that trembles Round each tree till it resembles A maiden letting fall her hair In cataracts of golddraw near The secret that brings Englishmen, Faithful through exile, home again, And watch the wonder of the morn And hear the lark with wings upborne Into the cloudless empyrean Pour his lucent, quenchless pæan, Or feel the quickened senses start In rapture of the artless art Of orchards all in blossom showing Against the blue of heaven glowing Through its depths of luminous light; Then from the windy woodland height Through dim ravines where tall trees wait For day's decline to gild their state And thrill them with caressing fingers Of the sun-god whose touch lingers Upon their limbsby paths that wind Into the valley go,and find The village by the water's edge And listen to the rustling sedge That by the churchyard whispers; go And tread the woodland paths I know For whosoever has not seen The cherry trees at Cookham Dean, Who has not roamed its hills and found Delight in that enchanted ground, He cannot know, he cannot tell Where Spring performs her miracle. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING LEMONADE by TONY HOAGLAND A SPRING SONG by LYMAN WHITNEY ALLEN SPRING'S RETURN by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS ODE TO SPRING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD ODE TO SPRING by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SPRING FLOODS by MAURICE BARING SPRING IN WINTER by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES SPRING ON THE PRAIRIE by HERBERT BATES THE FARMER'S BOY: SPRING by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD EYELESS AND LIMBLESS AND SHATTERED, FR. CHARING CROSS by CECIL EDRIC MORNINGTON ROBERTS WATCHMEN OF THE NIGHT by CECIL EDRIC MORNINGTON ROBERTS THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 60. FAREWELL TO JULIET (9) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |
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