England and Yesterday — April in Govilon

APRIL IN GOVILON.

Slowly, slowly darken Primrose and pimpernel;

Heather of the rock, a-shake On delicious air;

Slanted seas of spreading grass, (Green glow and tidal swell,) Under wind and pausing light how variably fair!

Larks from heaven descending Hush; not a cloud-shadow, Where so late the romping lambs Chased it, in a ring;

High along a little wood Quick rain-sparkles go;

Blorenge walls the faëry world: the sole substantial thing.

April in Govilon, Filled with a bright heart-break;

Evenfall on dying wing, Swanlike and supreme!

Soon, unheard, the Hyades Run up the hills to take Seven lamps, and trail the seven all night in Isca stream.