Friday, April 06, 2018

Poetry Friday: Magdelen Walks, by Oscar Wilde



Magdalen Walks
Oscar Wilde

The little white clouds are racing over the sky,
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flower of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swings as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves, and of grass, and of newly upturned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring’s glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm’s hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.

See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the gossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.

(This poem is in the public domain.) 


~~~~~


10 comments:

Tabatha said...

Wow!! What a delicious walk! I love the idea of "breaking into pink." "And the rose-bud breaks into pink on the climbing briar,/And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire"

The jasmine in my kitchen are blooming and the smell is very much like the joy of Spring's glad birth.

jama said...

What a lovely poem (new to me)! Gorgeous images. Last stanza is killer. Thanks for sharing!

tanita✿davis said...

Ohhhh, lovely.
I don't think I've ever read this one. Bless that Mr. Wilde. And I love that it's MAGDALEN. Perhaps it's Mary Magdalena walking after a particularly excellent Sunday, and all the world speaks to her of hope and love.

Brenda Harsham said...

How lovely, every line is a song.

Linda B said...

Everything is there, and we are waiting! The green is coming and the larks are back! Thanks, Karen. This is quite wonderful.

Mary Lee said...

The thing about poems like this is that you get tricked into thinking that all of this happens at once on a single glorious day. Spring usually (and this year...especially) comes in fits and starts, with bits and pieces of this happening sprinkled between with more cold and snow!

But that's poetic license, right? To put all the best moments into one poem, preserving them as if they could maybe happen that way for real...just once...pretty please, Mother Nature?

Kay said...

What a glorious ode to welcome spring. Despite the cold and snow, I can hear those birds singing to each other in the trees as I walk outside.

Amy Ludwig VanDerwater said...

The other day I took the dogs for a quick walk around the old pasture. I was treated to bluebirds dancing together from tree to tree. Now flakes of snow fall on daffodil buds. It is all glorious as this poem shows. xx

Jone MacCulloch said...

Saving this walk for a found poem moment. The words are delicious. Thank you for this find.

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