Part 1 — Pastorale

I RAN into the garden, for the breeze Was clean and keen and warming to the skin Like some Peruvian pepper soaked in gin It forced me to contract into a sneeze. I ran into the garden, for the sky Was like a freshly-tinted muslin gown Which makes the choir-boys gape, the parson frown, His daughters, envying, look on and sigh. I ran into the garden, for the sun Summoned the daisies in their new-washed frills, Summoned the cowslips and the daffodils To gay Spring’s festival, each one by one. I watched the blossoms with the dew in pearls, The Spring puffed flippancies into my mind And thoughts too abstract to have been defined By any but the chaffinch twittering.