Spring Dawns

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
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.
-- Gerard Manley Hopkins, "Spring"  1844-1889