On Reading Francis Ledwidge's Last Songs
At April's end, when blossoms break
To birth upon my apple tree,
I know the certain year will take
Full harvest of this infancy.
At April's end, when comes the dear
Occasion of your valley tune,
I know your beauty's arc is here,
A little ghostly morning moon.
Yet are these fosterlings of rhyme
As fortunately born to spend
Happy conspiracies with time
As apple flowers at April's end.
To birth upon my apple tree,
I know the certain year will take
Full harvest of this infancy.
At April's end, when comes the dear
Occasion of your valley tune,
I know your beauty's arc is here,
A little ghostly morning moon.
Yet are these fosterlings of rhyme
As fortunately born to spend
Happy conspiracies with time
As apple flowers at April's end.
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