The lilac blooms, 'May' lines the edge
Of country roads, its red and white
In beauty towers o'er lane and hedge,
A breathtaking beautific sight.
The trees, now robed in brightest green,
Make ‘May’ the reigning Springtime Queen.
Under the beech trees fresh leaf, new
With springing life ‘neath dappled sun,
The finest carpet, rich and blue,
Astounds the eye of everyone
Who passes by. Oh, if they could
All, all should see the Bluebell Wood.
And so it’s May, the very sound
Of this month’s name delights the ear.
We see the signs of Spring abound
And listening, with a well-tuned ear,
We hear that Summer’s on its way,
Announced once more by lovely May!
(Diary entry, 30th May)
And so, the May thus heralded
Four weeks ago as ‘Springtime’s Queen’
Draws to a close with rainy showers
That beat and blast th’abundant green.
And many, on their holiday,
Shiver with cold this end of May.
Such is the varied temperature
Of our green land, even in Spring
And Summer, whilst those further south
Bask in the heat that these months bring.
But, would we change England one jot?
I have to say, ‘No we would not’!
Read more articles by Margaret Kearley or search for articles on the same topic or others.
How could I not respond to this?
Your lovely poem describes so exactly our lovely homeland (warts and all.)
Loved the picture you painted so poetically.
