Oh, to be in England <br />Now that April's there, <br />And whoever wakes in England <br />Sees, some morning, unaware, <br />That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf <br />Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, <br />While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough <br />In England—now! <br /> <br />And after April, when May follows, <br />And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! <br />Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge <br />Leans to the field and scatters on the clover <br />Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray's edge— <br />That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, <br />Lest you should think he never could recapture <br />The first fine careless rapture! <br />And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, <br />All will be gay when noontide wakes anew <br />The buttercups, the little children's dower <br />—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!<br /><br />Robert Browning<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/home-thoughts-from-abroad/
