Friday, 1 March 2013

March


“The cock is crowing,
The stream is flowing,
The small birds twitter,
The lake doth glitter,
The green fields sleep in the sun;
The oldest and the youngest
Are at work with the strongest;
The cattle are grazing,
Their heads never raising;
There are forty feeding like one!
Like an army defeated
The snow hath retreated,
And now doth fair ill
On the top of the hill;
The plowboy is whopping-anon-anon:
There’s joy in the mountains;
There’s life in the fountains;
Small clouds are sailing
The rain is over and gone!”

William Wordsworth



Image courtesy uphillwriting.org.

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