Sap

Spring Again.

No denying the signs.

Rates bill. Crocuses on cue.

Daffodils rearing up

Like golden puff-adders.

Open to the neck, voices

Are louder. Unmuffled.

The lid lifted off the sky.

In the air, suddenly,

A feeling of ‘je sais quoi’.

I take the dog into the park.

Let myself off the lead.

– Roger McGough

Constancy

I went out at the Eastern Gate,

I saw the girls in clouds,

Like clouds they were, and soft and bright,

But in the crowds

I thought on the maid who is my light,

Down-drooping, soft as the grey twighlight;

She is my mate

I went out by the Tower on the Wall,

I saw the girls in flower,

Like flowering rushes they swayed and bent,

But in that hour

I thought on the maid who is my saint,

In her thin white robe and her colouring faint;

She is my all.

Chinese Lyric, 680 B. C.

translated by Helen Waddell (1885-1965)

(from A Book of Beauty, John Hadfield, 1976)