(In the Cleveland district of Yorkshire the misselthrush is so called.) RED Winter, with a sigh and shrug, First listens to the sound, And then begins to roll the rug Of fairy lambswool from the ground. The Spirit of Flowers along the sky With far-away plumes is winging, And, full of faith, on a tree close by, Sir Jeremy Joy is singing. Here's once again the sweet surprise Of what is old, yet new!— The crocus lifting to the skies His dew-glass wet with radiant dew. My body a nest of pulses seems, Like meadow-born lambs a-springing, And into my heart flock purple dreams, For Jeremy Joy is singing. The year-long wanderers from my breast Come lovely home to me, With pale-green palms together pressed, As if they begged for charity. The woodland whispers of the foam Of flowers alert for bringing The snow-bound bee from his honeycomb, For Jeremy Joy is singing. Who comes from Cleveland, he will know The bonny bird I mean, And in his breast may cheerier go His heart for some thrice-happy scene: Perchance he went by prosperous farms And bells of rivulets ringing, To bend his neck for young love's arms When Jeremy Joy was singing! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LEISURE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SOUND THE LOUD TIMBREL; MIRIAM'S SONG by THOMAS MOORE REMEMBER by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI A DEDICATION by ALFRED TENNYSON LILIES: 13. 'LET US NEVER COMFORT EACH OTHER INTO SLEEP' by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) SONNET by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN HIS GLORY TELL by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR |