All this

Another constanza.


All this, river, blackbirds singing,

I will miss when I have gone,

And other suns light up the dawn.


Salt sea tang, the west wind bringing,

Grey wings beating the wild spring air,

Their loss is more than I can bear.


White gulls through the rain clouds winging,

Taking spring to northern green fields,

When the winter grip of ice yields.


But most of all the kingcups springing,

Their bright cloak, the banks beguiling,

I’ll miss their golden faces smiling.


Remind me of my old loves clinging,

Roses climbing to the sunlight,

In the dusk that brings the last night.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

13 thoughts on “All this”

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