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trinkie
21-Mar-07, 21:06
Crows in Spring
by John Clare


The crow will tumble up and down
At the first sight of spring
And in old trees around the town
Brush winter from it's wing

No longer flapping far away
To naked fen they flye
Chill fare as on a winter's day
But field and valleys nigh

Where swains are stirring out to plough
And woods are just at hand
They seek the upland's sunny brow
And strut from land to land

And often flap their sooty wings
And sturt to neighbouring tree
And seems to try all ways to sing
And almost speaks in glee

The ploughman hears and turns his head
Above to wonder why
And there a new nest nearly made
Proclaims the winter by

The schoolboy, free from winter's frown
That rests on every stile
In wonder sets his basket down
To start this happy toil