Path Flower and Other Verses

A red cap sang in Bishop's wood, A lark o'er Golder's lane, As I the April pathway trod Bound west for Willesden. At foot each tiny blade grew big And taller stood to hear a every leaf on every twig Was like a little ear. As I too paused and both ways tried To catch the rippling rain so, still a hare kept at my side His tussock of disdain. Behind me close I heard a step a soft pit pat surprise a looking round my eyes fell deep Into sweet other eyes.