Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SPRING NIGHT, by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN



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SPRING NIGHT, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: Through the smothered air the wicker finds
Last Line: As if day's host of flowers were a moment's whim.
Alternate Author Name(s): Blunden, Edmund
Subject(s): England; Landscape; Spring; English


THROUGH the smothered air the wicker finds
A muttering voice, "crick" cries the embered ash,
Sharp rains knap at the panes beyond the blinds,
The flues and eaves moan, the jarred windows clash;
And like a sea breaking its barriers, flooding
New green abysses with untold uproar,
The cataract nightwind whelms the time of budding,
Swooping in sightless fury off the moor
Into our valley. Not a star shines. Who
Would guess the martin and the cuckoo come,
The pear in bloom, the bloom gone from the plum,
The cowslips countless as a morning dew?
So mad it blows, so truceless and so grim,
As if day's host of flowers were a moment's whim.





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