I
Dreams come true, and everything
Is fresh and lusty in the spring.
In groves that smell like ambergris,
Wind-songs, bird-songs, never cease.
Go with me down by the stream,
Haunt of bass and purple bream;
Feel the pleasure, keen and sweet,
When the cool waves lap your feet;
Catch the breath of moss and mould,
Hear the grosbeak’s whistle bold;
See the heron all alone
Midstream on a slippery stone,
Or, on some decaying log,
Spearing snail or water-frog.
See the shoals of sun-perch shine
Among the pebbles smooth and fine,
Whilst the sprawling turtles swim
In the eddies cool and dim!
II
The busy nuthatch climbs his tree,
Around the great bole spirally,
Peeping into wrinkles gray,
Under ruffled lichens gay,
Lazily piping one sharp note
From his silver mail
(Maurice Thompson)
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Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Spring Poems, Pleasure PoemsBased on Keywords: bream, ambergris, bird-songs, spearing, midstream, nuthatch, wind-songs, grosbeak, spirally