Near spring

Now the strong horse goes loose at last,

Free for his strength in the February's end,

Floods have left the meadows and gone past

To the broader rivers, rocks and sand.

Musing on old tunes, ploughboys go

Hoping to catch the lilt forgot

Of a tune their fathers recalled in glow

Of talking, or after cricket hot.

The year stirs wing and watches skies

Deep-in again; the girl is happy

With her white apron showing in the doorway's

Frame, daffodils thrill on hedgebanks ruddy.