SUMMER is come, with her leaves and her flowers— <br />Summer is come, with the sun on her hours; <br />The lark in the clouds, and the thrush on the bough, <br />And the dove in the thicket, make melody now. <br />The noon is abroad, but the shadows are cool <br />Where the green rushes grow in the dark forest pool. <br /> <br />We seek not the hedges where violets blow, <br />There alone in the twilight of ev'ning we go; <br />They are love-tokens offered, when heavy with dew, <br />To a lip yet more fragrant—an eye yet more blue. <br />But leave them alone to their summer-soft dream— <br />We seek the green rushes that grow by the stream. <br /> <br />Away from the meadow, although the long grass <br />Be filled with young flowers that smile as we pass; <br />Where the bird's eye is bright as the sapphires that shine <br />When the hand of a beauty is decked from the mine. <br />We want not their gems, and we want not their flowers. <br />But we seek the green rush in the dark forest bowers. <br /> <br />The cowslip is ringing its fairy-like chime, <br />Sweet bells, by whose music Titania keeps time; <br />The rose-bush is covered with cups that unfold <br />Their petals that tremble in delicate gold. <br />But we seek not their blossoms in garlands to blend, <br />We seek the green rush where the willow-trees bend. <br /> <br />The green rush, the green rush, we bear it along <br />To the church of our village with triumph and song; <br />We strew the cold chancel, and kneel on it there, <br />While its fresh odours rise with our voices in prayer. <br />Hark the peal from the old tower in praise of it rings, <br />Let us seek the green rush by the deep woodland springs.<br /><br />Letitia Elizabeth Landon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-rush-bearing-at-ambleside/
