52586: May Morning

The rising sun shone warmly on the tower, Into the clear pure Heaven the hymn aspired Piercingly sweet. This was the morning hour When life awoke with Spring's creative power, And the old City's grey to gold was fired. Silently reverent stood the noisy throng; Under the bridge the boats in long array Lay motionless. The chorister's far song Faded upon the breeze in echoes long. Swifley I left the bridge and rode away. Straight to the little wood's green heart I sped, Where cowslips grew, beneath whose gold withdrawn The fragrant earth peeped warm and richly red; All trace of Winter's chilling touch had fled, And song-birds ushered in year's bright morn.