Spring rain and leaves drive
the grass to a frenzy.
From a pearl grey sky
The welcoming earth is drenched.
A blackbird hurries by
With a worm in its beak.
What do we seek?
Trees sway, scattering blossom
scented and pink.
What do we think at such a time
Such a day?
Yes what do we think?
Just the beauty of England at
this time, almost pure?
As if her history held no crime.
How could she with fields of
such allure be anything other
than heavenly?
It is merciful that for now
We do not see too much and yet
The monuments do not allow
us to forget.
And the many stories that
in the past were told
As national glories
Now make our hearts grow cold.
In a place where winter
Grips with such an icey hold.
We need many Springs.


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