adamdaniel

All the Flowers

Bright — the rainbow colours blaze!
The pollen makes a Spring time haze,
The air awash with life and sound,
With flowers thick upon the ground.

Hark creation whispering,
The bees in ardour for the Spring—
Tis the season when we bloom!
The air is sweet, a gay perfume!

Mark the happy birdsong here,
Blackbirds signing winsome clear,
All the bounty of the day,
In glory lit, a bold array.

The sacred river babbles soft,
With oak and willow hung aloft,
The precious playground of the faun,
The sweeping glow of purple morn.

The thrush and chiffchaff sing their ode,
The woods and lakes their green abode,
The spring is sprung and new life plays,
In ecstasy, in time lost days.

The mother badger with her young,
The acorns on the forest slung,
The wilderness is gleeful fond,
Of every life, of every frond.

The apex of the sun so tall,
An incandescent yellow ball,
Nurturing such merry gifts,
Aye, every petal that it lifts.

The wash of twilight sun in gold,
The orange tint upon the wold,
Tis right to praise the God we love,
In heaven housed, in might above.

ADL