trinkie
08-Apr-08, 07:51
Crocuses
By John W MacLeod.
Crocuses, sweet crocuses !
Firstlings of the Spring!
When I behold your shining gold
My heart begins to sing!
Here about the beech tree
Springing from the mould
Where willow droops you rise in groups
Purple, white and gold.
How I love you, darlings,
While the snow departs,
For her dear sake for whom I wake
The treasures of my heart.
Purple for my lady,
I with joy adore,
For she is queen in heart and mien,
My love-queen evermore.
White for all her tender
Thoughts of love for me,
As pure as snow, that, ‘lighting low’
Transfigures fern and tree.
Gold for love and honour,
And her faith sincere,
From mine heart can never part,
Thro’ changing clime or year.
Crocuses, sweet crocuses!
Ye are emblem still
Of that sweet hope whose petals ope’
And this poor heart doth fill.
Yellow for the miser,
Purple for the king;
And there’s the white of true delight
For all who love the Spring !
By John W MacLeod.
Crocuses, sweet crocuses !
Firstlings of the Spring!
When I behold your shining gold
My heart begins to sing!
Here about the beech tree
Springing from the mould
Where willow droops you rise in groups
Purple, white and gold.
How I love you, darlings,
While the snow departs,
For her dear sake for whom I wake
The treasures of my heart.
Purple for my lady,
I with joy adore,
For she is queen in heart and mien,
My love-queen evermore.
White for all her tender
Thoughts of love for me,
As pure as snow, that, ‘lighting low’
Transfigures fern and tree.
Gold for love and honour,
And her faith sincere,
From mine heart can never part,
Thro’ changing clime or year.
Crocuses, sweet crocuses!
Ye are emblem still
Of that sweet hope whose petals ope’
And this poor heart doth fill.
Yellow for the miser,
Purple for the king;
And there’s the white of true delight
For all who love the Spring !