118 THE MARCH OF THE SEASONS 



HOME-THOUGHTS FROM ABROAD 



OH, to be in England 



Now that April's there, 



And whoever wakes in England 



Sees, some morning, unaware, 



That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf 



Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, 



While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough 



In England now ! 



And after April, when May follows, 



And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows ! 



Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge 



Leans to the field and scatters on the clover 



Blossoms and dewdrops at the bent spray's edge 



That's the wise thrush ; he sings each song twice 



over, 



Lest you should think he never could recapture 

 The first fine careless rapture ! 



And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, 

 All will be gay when noontide wakes anew 

 The buttercups, the little children's dower 

 Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower ! 



ROBERT BROWNING. 



SEED-TIME HYMN 



LORD, in thy name thy servants plead, 



And thou hast sworn to hear ; 

 Thine is the harvest, thine the seed, 



The fresh and fading year : 



