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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341439" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Primroses</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I<br>Latest, earliest of the year,<br>Primroses that still were here,<br>Snugly nestling round the boles<br>Of the cut-down chestnut poles,<br>When December's tottering tread<br>Rustled 'mong the deep leaves dead,<br>And with confident young faces<br>Peeped from out the sheltered places<br>When pale January lay<br>In its cradle day by day,<br>Dead or living, hard to say;<br>Now that mid-March blows and blusters,<br>Out you steal in tufts and clusters,<br>Making leafless lane and wood<br>Vernal with your hardihood.<br>Other lovely things are rare,<br>You are prodigal as fair.<br>First you come by ones and ones,<br>Lastly in battalions,<br>Skirmish along hedge and bank,<br>Turn old Winter's wavering flank,<br>Round his flying footsteps hover,<br>Seize on hollow, ridge, and cover,<br>Leave nor slope nor hill unharried,<br>Till, his snowy trenches carried,<br>O'er his sepulchre you laugh,<br>Winter's joyous epitaph.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II<br>This, too, be your glory great,<br>Primroses, you do not wait,<br>As the other flowers do,<br>For the Spring to smile on you,<br>But with coming are content,<br>Asking no encouragement.<br>Ere the hardy crocus cleaves<br>Sunny border 'neath the eaves,<br>Ere the thrush his song rehearse,<br>Sweeter than all poets' verse,<br>Ere the early bleating lambs<br>Cling like shadows to their dams,<br>Ere the blackthorn breaks to white,<br>Snowy-hooded anchorite;<br>Out from every hedge you look,<br>You are bright by every brook,<br>Wearing for your sole defence<br>Fearlessness of innocence.<br>While the daffodils still waver,<br>Ere the jonquil gets its savour,<br>While the linnets yet but pair,<br>You are fledged, and everywhere.<br>Nought can daunt you, nought distress,<br>Neither cold nor sunlessness.<br>You, when Lent sleet flies apace,<br>Look the tempest in the face;<br>As descend the flakes more slow,<br>From your eyelids shake the snow,<br>And when all the clouds have flown,<br>Meet the sun's smile with your own.<br>Nothing ever makes you less<br>Gracious to ungraciousness.<br>March may bluster up and down,<br>Pettish April sulk and frown;<br>Closer to their skirts you cling,<br>Coaxing Winter to be Spring.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III<br>Then when your sweet task is done,<br>And the wild-flowers, one by one,<br>Here, there, everywhere do blow,<br>Primroses, you haste to go,<br>Satisfied with what you bring,<br>Fading morning-stars of Spring.<br>You have brightened doubtful days,<br>You have sweetened long delays,<br>Fooling our enchanted reason<br>To miscalculate the season.<br>But when doubt and fear are fled,<br>When the kine leave wintry shed,<br>And 'mid grasses green and tall<br>Find their fodder, make their stall;<br>When the wintering swallow flies<br>Homeward back from southern skies,<br>To the dear old cottage thatch<br>Where it loves to build and hatch,<br>That its young may understand,<br>Nor forget, this English land;<br>When the cuckoo, mocking rover,<br>Laughs that April loves are over;<br>When the hawthorn, all ablow,<br>Mimics the defeated snow;<br>Then you give one last look round,<br>Stir the sleepers underground,<br>Call the campion to awake,<br>Tell the speedwell courage take,<br>Bid the eyebright have no fear,<br>Whisper in the bluebell's ear<br>Time has come for it to flood<br>With its blue waves all the wood,<br>Mind the stichwort of its pledge<br>To replace you in the hedge,<br>Bid the ladysmocks good-bye,<br>Close your bonnie lids and die;<br>And, without one look of blame,<br>Go as gently as you came.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Alfred+Austin">Alfred Austin</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=341439" data-title="Primroses de Alfred Austin" data-description="I
Latest, earliest of the year,
Primroses that still were here,
Snugly nestling round the boles
Of the cut-down chestnut poles,
When December's tottering tread
Rustled 'mong the deep leaves dead,
And with confident young faces
Peeped from out the ..."></div>
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