"Into the scented woods we'll go
And see the blackthorn swim in snow.
High above in the budding leaves,
A brooding dove awakes and grieves;
The glades with mingled music stir,
And wildly laughs the woodpecker.
When blackthorn petals pearl the breeze
There are the twisted hawthorn trees
Thick-set with buds, as clear and pale
As golden water or green hail-
As if a storm of rain had stood
Enchanted in the thorny wood,
And, hearing fairy voices call,
Hung poised, forgetting how to fall."
Poem by Mary Webb, 1881 - 1927.Illustration - 'The Blackthorn Fairy' by Cicely Mary Barker, 1885- 1973.
I came across this poem only this last week and wondered why I had never discovered it before.
