Home-Thoughts, from Abroad

Oh， to be in England Now that April's there，

And whoever wakes in England

Sees， some morning， unaware¹，

That the lowest boughs³ and the brushwood sheaf

Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf，

While the chaffinch sings on the orchard⁴ bough²

In England - now！

And after April， when May follows，

And the whitethroat builds， and all the swallows

Hark！ where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge

Leans to the field and scatters⁵ on the clover

Blossoms and dewdrops - at the bent⁶ spray's edge

That's the wise thrush； he sings each song twice over，

Lest you should think he never could recapture

The first fine careless rapture⁷！

And though the fields look rough with hoary⁸ dew，

All will be gay when noontide wakes anew

The buttercups， the little children's dower， -

Far brighter than this gaudy⁹ melon-flower！

Robert Browning 1812-89