A Little Song

Poem By Radclyffe Hall

A RIPPLE and a rush, and a mating thrash,
And, oh ! the month must be at May.
A blossom and a tree, and a honey-bee,
And, oh ! it's such a perfect day !

A meeting and a smile, and a sunlit mile.
And, oh ! the world is very young.
Come winter, storm or cold.
Love never can grow old.
And oh ! my little song is sung !

Comments about A Little Song

There is no comment submitted by members.


Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of HALL

Butterfly

Butterfly, butterfly, where are you going?
'Over the roses into the sky.'
Butterfly, butterfly, there is no knowing
When you'll come back again, so good-bye!

Eastnor Churchyard

I BE hopin' you remember,
Now the Spring has come again,
How we used to gather violets
By the Uttle church at Eastnor,

The Malvern Hills

The Malvern Hills be green some days.
And some days purple-blue,
There never was the like of them
The whole of England through.

The First Cuckoo

To-day I heard the cuckoo call.
Atop of Bredon Hill,
I heard him near the blackthorn bush,
And Oh ! my heart stood still !

Dusk In The Lane

Come, put yer little hand in mine.
And let it be at rest.
It minds me of a tired bird
Within a warm brown nest ;

The Meeting Place

I MIND me of the hawthorn trees,
With cuckoos flying near ;
The hawthorn blossoms smelt so sweet,
The cuckoo called so clear !