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1893–1944

VIII

Robert Nichols

So to a thorny thicket dense The Faun With rosy-coloured may-bloom, whence hides. I can hear a torrent rumble, And, peering forth, behold it tumble

Cumbrously into a pool whose white Tumult sears the giddied sight. There, half dozed, silent, smile to hear A babble of voices drawing near,

Spy many a boy and laughing lass Racing hands-linked across the grass. Boys and Girls. Now has the blue-eyed Spring Sped dancing through the plain. A CATCH

Girls weave a daisy chain; FOR SPRING. Boys race beside the sedge; Dust fills the blinding lane; May lies upon the hedge:

All creatures love the spring! The clouds laugh on, and would Dance with us if they could; The larks ascend and shrill;

A woodpecker fills the wood; Jays laugh crossing the hill: All creatures love the spring! The lithe cloud-shadows chase

Over the whole earth's face, And where winds ruffling veer O'er wooded streams’ dark ways Mad fish upscudding steer:

All creatures love the spring! Into the dairy cool Run, girls, to drink thick cream! Race, boys, to where the stream

Winds through a rumbling pool, And your bright bodies fling Into the foaming cool! For we'll enjoy our spring!

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VIII · Robert Nichols · Poetry Cove