This is our England in all her glory,
Glad; wakened from her slumber,
Casting aside winter’s cloak,
As spring sun kisses our princess,
Bids her be glad; revel in new life,
The joy as twin cherry trees blossom,
Branches clamouring heavenwards,
Despite weight of a million blooms,
Each a candle soft blown in breeze,
The vision that delighted Wordsworth,
A vibrant city not built of brick or stone,
Green leaves thrust from dewy lawns,
As if oaken trees no longer welcomed,
Leaving yellow cups to catch the dew,
And refreshed dance in mock solemnity,
So too hidden from mad bustling throng,
A carpet of white and yellow and blue,
As crocus snowdrop; woodland flowers
Welcome approach of gentlest spring,
From their sanctuary in yon shaded dell,
Then should we not look up to praise,
With hymn of joy and hope upon our lips
As we see green leaf upon the bough,
Hear first far distant call of many a bird,
Singing; telling all of their flights of fancy,
Under a clear blue sky; cloudless pure,
A tapestry of hope and expectation,
On which an invisible hand soon paints,
The joyous perfection of new born spring!

Patrick R
March 2012.

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