The Green Month

WHAT of all the colours shall I bring you for your fairing,
Fit to lay your fingers on, fine enough for you ?–
Yellow for the ripened rye, white for ladies’ wearing,
Red for briar-roses, or the skies’ own blue ?
Nay, for spring has touched the elm, spring has found
the willow,
Winds that call the swallow home sway the boughs
Green shall all my curtains be, green shall be my pillow,
Green I’ll wear within my hair, and green upon my heart.

Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall author of The Drift of Pinions

This poem is offered as part of our April theme: Golf & Greens

T.S. Poetry