08/02/2019 by Sean Scott 0 Comments
First sign of spring
My garden blazes brightly with the rosebush and the peach,
and the koil sings above it, in the siris by the well,
from the creeper covered trellis comes the squirrels chattering speech,
and the blue jay screams and flutters where the cheery satbhai dwell,
but the rose has lost its fragrance and the coil's note is strange,
I am sick of endless sunshine , sick of blossom burdened bough,
give me back the leafless woodlands where the winds of Springtime range-
Give me back one day in England, for its spring in England now!
Through the pines the gusts are blooming, o'er the brown fields blowing chill,
from the furrow of the ploughshare streams the fragrance of the loam,
and the hawk nests on the cliffside and the jackdaw in the hill'
and my heart is back in England 'mid the sights and sounds of home,
Ah! Koil, little Koil, singing on the siris bough,
in my ears the knell of exile your ceaseless bell like speeches-
Can you tell me aught of England or of Spring in England now?
Ok so Mr Kipling certainly missed England while living in India, penning the odd Disney blockbuster.
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