My Tree - May Tree

Spring

Nothing is so beautiful as Spring –     
When weeds, in wheels,
shoot long and lovely and lush;         

Thrush’s eggs look little low heavens, and thrush         
   Most, O maid’s child,
thy choice and worthy the winning.      
Through the echoing timber does so rinse and wring         
The ear, it strikes like lightnings to hear him sing;
   The glassy peartree leaves and blooms, they brush         
   The descending blue; that blue is all in a rush         
With richness;
the racing lambs too have fair their fling.         
What is all this juice and all this joy?         
   A strain of the earth’s sweet being in the beginning
In Eden garden – Have, get, before it cloy,         
   Before it cloud, Christ, lord, and sour with sinning,        
Innocent mind and Mayday in girl and boy, 
   Most, O maid’s child,
thy choice and worthy the winning.      

And suddenly, there are leaves, and blossoms
[and Gerard Manley Hopkins' poem!]