Now It's Springtime by Myra Morris

| No TrackBacks
Now it's Springtime, in the morning 
There's a pallid cuckoo calling.
There's a plaintive cuckoo calling 
   From the road beside the sea; 
There's a mist of blossom falling 
Where the buds are still unfolding, 
And the orchard trees are holding 
In their sun-entangled branches 
   All the sweets that yet will be. 

Now its Springtime, every morning 
There's a dew upon the bracken, 
On the amber-fronded bracken 
   Running wildly to the sea; 
And the ride young breezes slacken, 
Piping airy fairy marches, 
In among the tea-tree arches, 
Where the frail clematis fingers 
   Weave their fancy stitchery!

Now it's Springtime, in the morning
I'll be going, I'll be going.
I'll be up and gladly going 
   With the first-awakened bee; 
Down a sandy way I'm knowing 
I'll be laughing, I'll be leaping. 
Where the pig-face roots are creeping 
And the boats all newly painted 
   Lean toward the sapphire sea.

First published in The Bulletin, 25 September 1929

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL:

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on September 25, 2014 7:37 AM.

The Dandenongs by Kathleen Dalziel was the previous entry in this blog.

The Game by Zora Cross is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.


Powered by Movable Type 4.23-en