In the meadow by the mill
I’d make my ballad,
Tunes to that would whistle shrill
And beat the blackbird’s ringing bill.-
But surely the innocent spring has died,
The sultry noon has hushed the bird,
The jingling word, the tune untried,
All in that meadow must have died.-
For that, the fuller speech of song
Has charmed me,
And lulled my lonely hours along;
Though beauty’s truth that leads to-day
My longing trials
Shone then like dewdrops in my way,
When ” Nature painted all things gay.”
(Edmund Blunden)
More Poetry from Edmund Blunden:
Edmund Blunden Poems based on Topics: Birds- Preparations For Victory (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Chinese Paper Knife (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- April Byeway (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Almswomen (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- Perch Fishing (Edmund Blunden Poems)
- The Child's Grave (Edmund Blunden Poems)