The Year Poem by Coventry Patmore
The Year
The crocus, while the days are dark,
Unfolds its saffron sheen;
At April's touch the crudest bark
Discovers gems of green.
Then sleep the seasons, full of might;
While slowly swells the pod
And rounds the peach, and in the night
The mushroom bursts the sod.
The winter falls; the frozen rut
Is bound with silver bars;
The snowdrift heaps against the hut,
And night is pierced with stars.
I was taught this poem in school more than sixty years ago. I am now teaching it to my granddaughter. She loves it as I do after all those years.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 9:38:24 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Wonderful rythem..great poem..