Promise

by Bernadette Weyde | June 12, 2014 9:47 am

The first day came from the bitter north
Was there ever so cold a Spring?
But the sun shone out for an hour at noon,
And we heard the cuckoo sing!

The next day woke with a cheerless blast
And a sky that was grey with snow.
But we heard the corncrake tune his pipe
In the meadow down below!

The third day sobbed with a dismal rain,
The very trees looked numb,
But the swallows arrived on the old roof-tree.
And we knew that the summer would come!


(source: by ‘Cushag’ (Josephine Kermode)’ photo[1], photographer unknown)

Endnotes:
  1. photo: http://bit.ly/19qEWY3

Source URL: http://asmanxasthehills.com/promise/