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Magdalen Walks

Rating: 3.0
THE little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly up-turned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.
And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
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COMMENTS
John G 16 November 2017
Unfortunately, the second half of this poem is missing... which is a shame...
0 0 Reply
* Sunprincess * 17 May 2016
.....oh my gosh, I love the last line so much ? the kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air
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