"When Fields Grow Green"
When fields grow green, and south winds
- blow,
- Through nature's veins new pulses flow;
Her swift feet twinkle where they pass,
And dandelions star the grass,
And violets nestle and orchards glow.
The mating birds the season know,
And hand in hand young lovers go,
And every laddie has his lass,
- When fields grow green!
- Dead things relive of long ago;
The shaggy satyrs to and fro
Dance in the wood, and, hark! alas!
The flute of luckless Marsyas,
Or Pan's own pipe blown long and low,
- When fields grow green.
___Arthur Graves Canfield
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