Francis Brett Young Hear Poems
- 1. February
The robin on my lawn
He was the first to tell
How, in the frozen dawn,
This miracle befell,
... - 2. Invocation
Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee?
For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing,
And wait on thy appearing,
Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me.
... - 3. The Quails
(In the south of Italy the peasants put out the eyes of a captured quail so that its cries may attract the flocks of spring migrants into their nets.)
All through the night
... - 4. The Leaning Elm
Before my window, in days of winter hoar
Huddled a mournful wood:
Smooth pillars of beech, domed chestnut, sycamore,
In stony sleep they stood:
...
